Potions, What Would a Girl Do Without It?
by slave4severus
Summary: About a year ago, Severus discovered an intriguing young woman at a Death Eater's manor . . . trying to slip a lust potion into his wine? Who was she, and what will happen when she turns up quite unexpectedly at Hogwarts?
1. Tiptoe Through the Tulips

**Potions: What Would a Girl Do Without It?**

**by Slave4Severus**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and any original characters I will add in as I deem necessary. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling. Should any other literary references be used, they will be so noted at that point.**

She was on her third piece of parchment now. The quill in her hand skilfully scratched over the paper as she furrowed her brow in concentration. Although her professor had strictly advised keeping her essay to one sheet of parchment, she found she was unable to keep it shorter than three pieces. 'He will understand,' she thought confidently as she made the final additions upon her homework. A small smile crossed her full lips as she thought about Professor Correlius, her private tutor for the past ten years. Even though he tried to restrict the length and depth of her assignments she could never help but write more; her thirst for knowledge so blatantly obvious. This drive had forced her parents to begin her schooling early. One evening they had found their young, barely seven-years-old, daughter asleep on various Potion and Transfiguration books in the family library.

Upon waking she had fired so many questions about 'the pretty pictures' that her parents decided to find a suitable tutor for her. By the time her eleventh birthday arrived, she was already too far ahead of her peers to benefit from a formal school setting. Not to say that several prestigious schools had not tried to claim her for one of their own, but her parents believed they could ultimately broaden her education best in relaxed and sheltered surroundings.

Alanna sighed heavily, returning her Charms book to the stack beside her, retrieving her heavy potions book from her bag. 'Potions, what would a girl do without it?' She thought, as she lightly touched the embossed lettering on the book "Dark Potions and Their Everyday Uses." She smiled as she remembered begging Professor Correlius to let her study dark potions after finishing the required text last year.

"Dark Potions are not fit for a school environment, Miss Flint, and we shall not discuss this any further," Professor Correlius' voice brusque as he returned to the stack of Potions texts he felt suitable for her.

Alanna did not hide her disappointment when she spoke: "But, Professor, we did agree that I could help with the selection of the curriculum when I have finished the required texts for the N.E.W.T.'s. As they are not scheduled until next YEAR, I thought I could help my Father by..."

He ignored her comments as he handed her a colourful book. "Now, here is a good solid text that should spike that abundant interest of yours and keep your mind out of the other UNSUITABLE ones." Professor Correlius handed her a red book with gold lettering on the top that read 'Is it love or lust? Potions of Seduction.'

Pearly laughter escaped Alanna as she read the title and cocked a finely arched brow at her Professor. "Firstly, sir, if I should brew any of these potions, whom would I administer these to in order to log and record their effectiveness?" Her thoughts drifted to the horrible boy she spent her summers with. "Surely, you do not think that I would ever administer anything to my horrid cousin Marcus, would you?" The thought was rather ludicrous. "Secondly, ihaaealeaysudyt."

"Excuse me, Miss Flint, what was that you just so eloquently mumbled behind your hand?" Professor Correlius tried to suppress a laugh thinking that he had finally stumped his star pupil, but coughed instead after hearing her clipped answer.

"I said that I have already studied it, sir." Alanna did not want to say on whom she actually tried it though. Even though Marcus would have been a better choice, Merlin how she hated the little slime, but last summer she had the great opportunity to slip some 'Aphrodite's Nectar' to an unsuspecting guest of her father. She shuddered involuntarily as she remembered the incident.

It was an early summer evening, and she had finally figured out how to brew the complex lust potion to right consistency and fuchsia colour as her father stepped into her private laboratory, a gift for her sixteenth birthday two months prior.

"Alanna, darling..." he broke off and surveyed his surroundings. "Isn't it a little dark in here?" He came closer to her worktable as she tried to conceal the red book on the top of the counter, slipping it into the folds of her robes. "And what in the world are you brewing?" Farrell Flint eyed the concoction in the cauldron warily and then raised his eyes to his only daughter before him. A pained, over bright smile forced itself onto her flushed face.

"Oh, uhm, nothing, Papa. It is just a potion I am working on for . . . Zippy." Alanna stepped from one foot to another her adrenaline rushing through her blood, as she tried to come up with a convincing lie. Moreover, where in the hell did 'Zippy' come from?

Her father was _really_ suspicious now. "Zippy. You are trying to tell me that this brew is for one of our house elves?" He took her ladle and slowly stirred the potion.

'Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit...' She gracefully took, or snatched rather, the ladle from him and said: "Well you know Zippy, she has been a little under the weather lately . . . and my tea has not been the right temperature in the mornings, so...I thought I would make a form of Pepper-up potion for her." She nervously looked into her fathers eyes and smiled again.

"Humph," was the answer she received. Farrell Flint looked back at his only child knowing that she was not being truthful with him. 'We need to work on her concealment of facial expressions. An idiot could read her like a book.'

"Well, darling, I came here to tell you that unfortunately you will have to dine in your rooms tonight. I am expecting important . . . company and your mother and I have to play host."

Alanna sighed heavily. 'It's always the same old tune. We love you, but are too ashamed to introduce you to our friends.' She knew it was futile to talk her father into letting her join them for dinner. She had had a battle of wills with him when she was eleven and found out that even her Papa had boundaries. Alanna carefully ladled some of the potion into a small vial and corked it before she responded.

"So, I take it these are important business clients?"

Happy that his daughter would not make a big fuss, he smiled and turned back towards the door.

"Yes, you could say that. Now, they will arrive in about thirty minutes, so please make sure you are in your rooms in fifteen."

He opened the door and stopped to look over his shoulder.

"And Alanna?"

She looked up from her station as if caught.

"Yes?"

"Do not let me catch you eavesdropping. Is that understood?"

Alanna swallowed heavily. 'Blast, he knows I spied on him last week while discussing the owl post with Mother.'

"But Papa, you know I wouldn't do that." She replied meekly.

'Oh yes, I will definitely have to teach her to conceal her facial expressions.'

"Alright," he nodded to his only child, "Good night my little angel." He slowly stepped out of the lab and quietly closed the door.

Alanna quickly scurgified her cauldron and utensils, replacing the ingredients in her storage cupboard with skilled precision, before carefully slipping the potion vial into her pocket. Quietly she stepped out of her lab and walked down the long corridor leading to the foyer trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.

The potion did not have a long shelf life and she would have to administer it within the hour if she wanted the correct effects. Alanna suppressed a girlish giggle of anticipation as she made her way over to her usual hiding place behind a statue of Morgane. This particular spot placed her in perfect proximity to view the activities down below while still being concealed by the dark shadows of the statue. Although she had not met any of her parents' guests, she had glimpsed most of them coming through the grand doors to the manor. They often stayed for social gatherings in the grand ballroom where she could watch them from afar with lingering fascination.

Less than fifteen minutes passed before a loud knock fell on the front door, shaking Alanna from her thoughts as she pressed forward for a better look. An old house elf popped into view, unlatching the heavy door and pulling on the brass handle with all its might, huffing under the strain. The door had only opened an inch before it swung open from the outside, pushing the elf onto his backside and into the coat rack behind him with a small "Eeep!" of distress. Darkness of night covered the man standing in the doorframe, his black-gloved hand holding onto an ebony cane with a silver snakehead pressed firmly against the door.

Alanna did not blink as he slowly stepped into the lit foyer, scanning his surroundings with calculated precision; exuding dominance and aristocracy. He was tall and classically handsome with his well-defined chin, thin lips and piercing gaze. The feature that truly startled Alanna though was the shockingly full head of long platinum hair, which perfectly graced his figure: a blond Adonis.

'I wonder what potion he used to get that colour..." she thought before her eyes swept lower, taking in the very well clad form of the blond man as he moved smartly into the sitting room. Definitely a possibility, she thought, scrutinizing the next man in the foyer and dismissed him just as fast.

'Uncle Faustus would know it was me.' The third man made her cringe in disgust; short, balding, snivelling, and just absolutely not a candidate for a lust potion. 'Gods help the poor witch that has to endure HIS advances.' Alanna thought with a shudder and could not stop an undignified "Uugghhhrr" passing her lips.

The minute the sound escaped her, the fourth man snapped his head up, seemingly staring straight at her. Alanna inhaled sharply and pressed further into the shadow of the statue, hoping, nay praying, the man had not seen her.

Those black eyes were burning into her.

All seeing and relentless.

She closed her eyes briefly and sent Merlin a quick prayer. When she blinked her eyes open once more, she found he was still staring, but his eyes were roaming the entire top of the foyer where the huge stairs wrapped around, leading to the two wings of the house.

She exhaled slowly, knowing he hadn't seen her and relaxed a bit before resuming her assessment of the 'candidates'. Only three words could adequately describe the fourth man: tall, dark, and . . . snarky. A shiver ran down her spine as she watched him survey his surroundings with a sneer still darting furtive glances towards her vicinity. His black hair hung limply down around his face hiding those searching eyes and emphasizing his prominent nose.

'All black, 'she thought,' who in this century wears all black?' The stranger swept across the foyer following the other three guests, long robes billowing behind him as he quietly entered the study and closed the door with a resounding thud.

Alanna crept out from behind the statue and carefully made her way down the stairs. The house elf had already picked his small frame off the floor and had vanished for the kitchens leaving the foyer deserted. Only the soft murmur of voices was audible from behind the door to her left. She quickly crept over to the dining room located on the right hand side of the foyer and closed the door softly behind her.

"What is little Miss doing down here?"

Alanna yelped softly and swung around, facing a very disgruntled looking house elf.

"Zippy, I...uhm, well, you see I was hungry and..."

"Little Miss not need to lie to old Zippy!" The pint-sized creature wagged her long, gnarly finger at her. "Little Miss knows that dinner upstairs tonight."

"Oh, yes you are right. I totally forgot."

'Oh please believe me and don't tell Mother about this.' She thought pleadingly.

"Well, guests will be here shortly and Zippy has to get good plates and glasses." Zippy turned around and busied herself with the plates, while Alanna stepped further into the room towards the wine glasses situated by the bar.

"I will get the glasses for you Zippy." She said breathlessly as she grabbed the red wine bottle next to the glasses and began filling the first one.

"No, no. Little Miss must leave right now or Mistress will be upset. Little Miss knows not to meet any of Masters company!" With every word, Zippy became more anxious and louder, running over to Alanna and attempting to pull her from the room, bottle and all.

"I will leave in just a moment, just after I . . ." She didn't finish that sentence, as there were voices coming closer to the dining room. Alanna quickly took the vial from out of her pocket and uncorked it, pouring half of its contents into the already filled wine glass. She hastily picked it up and swirled the ruby liquid mixing the potion with the alcohol. Returning the stopper to the vial she hastily let herself be pulled from the room. The door on the other end opened just as Zippy dragged her into the kitchen, but not before Alanna could get a glimpse of her father and mother walking into the room.

'Merlin's foot! I don't know who will get the glass now! Oh, please let it be the blond!' she suppressed her excitement as she ran from the kitchen into the vast garden behind the house. The cool breeze ruffled her auburn curls as she made her way around the dark mansion in search of the dining room windows. Alanna skidded ungracefully to a halt by the first window and crouched low to the ground peering into it. Here she had a great view of the bar and Zippy as she continued to fill the rest of the wine glasses.

'Don't give it to Uncle Faustus." She silently pleaded.

Alanna watched as Zippy charmed the tray of glasses levitating them slowly to each member of the dinner party. The dark red wine she had poured was the only glass of its kind, the others holding an amber liquid or white wine. The tray slowly floated to first her mother, who took a glass of white wine and then to her father who helped himself to an amber snifter.

'Sweet Merlin,' she thought as she watched in horrific rapture, but soon tensed again while the tray made its way over the bald man. A few agonizing moments passed as he made his selection.

'Only three left.' Her adrenaline was pumping hard as she watched the tray move in slow motion to her Uncle Faustus, who was more interested in the conversation than the drink. With a wave of his hand, he motioned the tray to the next guest.

Alanna was seriously having problems breathing now. Her pounding heart roared in her ears and throughout her entire body. A thin sheen of perspiration glistened on her forehead.

'Ohhh, this was a bad idea. A really bad idea. What in Merlin's name was I thinking? Oh, get off it Alanna you weren't thinking. That is why you made the bloody potion in the first place...'

Her mind went blank as both the blond and the dark man made their drink selections at the same time, both reaching for the red wine. In a fit of good manners, the fair-haired man relinquished his hold one the glass to his darker counterpart with a mocking bow; Zippy was there in an instant to hand him a fresh glass of red wine as everyone immersed themselves in the dinner conversation.

'Shit...Double Shit...why not the blond?' She couldn't take her eyes off the dark man. He was sitting across from the windows in plain sight from where she was crouching. Slowly, she removed her lab book from her pocket with a miniature pre-filled ink quill and began scribbling something in her book.

Then she waited...and waited...and waited some more.

"Blast! Doesn't this man drink?" she muttered lowly after what seemed like ages. While her heart rate, and anticipation for that matter, lessened, she became painfully aware of her lower extremities tensing and falling asleep. She shifted her weight slightly to ease her discomfort, but ungracefully managed to fall forward into the bushes with a soft thud.

"Oh bugger!" She swore quietly, hoping that her little mishap neither heard nor seen in the dining room. Carefully she peered into the windows, registering that her parents had suspected nothing, as they talked animatedly with their guests. Alanna exhaled audibly before she, yet again, resumed her position to observe her 'guinea pig,' finally being rewarded as he gracefully lifted the glass, swirling the contents in a clockwise motion and bringing it to his lips.

Her eyes widened visibly at the display before her. "Oh Merlin...oh Merlin...," she whimpered in a forced whisper, "...I am so dead...he...he knows. He KNOWS!"

The crimson liquid never made it past the man's lips before a spark of recognition flashed across his face. His eyes immediately focused onto his host as he carefully sniffed the glass, placing a long, sleek finger into its contents. Without breaking his eye contact, he quickly slipped said finger between his lips, tasting, analysing. A definite glare contorted his pale face before a careful mask of indifference replaced it just as quickly. His gaze darted to the blond man beside him and then to the other occupants of the room in an assessing and calculating manner before setting the wine glass back on the table, then 'accidentally' spilling it across the surface with a flick of his wrist. Zippy replaced his drink with a fresh one before he could even utter some form of excuse to his host. With one last look at the blond man, who had sipped his wine over the course of the evening, he indulged in a deep draught of the uncontaminated liquid. A small sneer appeared on his lips, but otherwise his expression was unfathomable.

Alanna could not believe her misfortune. After the hours of hard work in creating 'Aphrodite's Nectar' she would not have the pleasure in seeing her handiwork put into action. She gathered herself up from her position by the window and turned to walk to the front of the house, her thoughts already wandering to yet another potion in the red book, and better selection of a test subject when the time came to administer. Had she been less distracted, she would have realized that the dinner party was winding down rather quickly, as the four men stood to take their leave.

'Well Alanna, you should be happy that he didn't drink it. It could have been much worse.' She sighed to herself. 'Besides...at least he has no clue that it wa-...'

"Uhmmph!" Her body connected with a hard, black wall that seemed to appear out of nowhere, making her stagger backward, and for a second time that evening fall ungainly onto the grass. ''What the..." she did not finish her sentence before the 'wall' swooped down on her, catching her wrists in a vice, and yanking her up harshly. At one-hundred and seventy-two centimetres, Alanna was by no means a small girl, but the man gripping her wrists towered over her like a demon spawned from hell. The strength that emanated from him was dizzying and overpowering at the same time, although she could have mistaken the dizzying for the violent shaking of her body as it drowned in its own fear.

The moon crested over the tops of the trees surrounding the manor, revealing the spot they were both standing in. Unfortunately, for Alanna, the eerie light illuminated his face, casting a deathly pale glare to his skin and making his eyes glow like two perfectly shaped onyx orbs. Those eyes scared her the most. Dark determination and coldness was only the tip of what she could make out in them, particularly in the moonlight.

She swallowed convulsively, hoping her body would not betray her too much as she began to tug at her wrists trying to free them from Hells firm grasp. A sharp yank later and she hit the man's chest again as his face began to lower towards hers. Thoughts eluded her; breath eluded her, only the desire to get as far away from this man as possible.

'He knows, he knows, he knows . . .' her mind chanted repeatedly. His long nose was only centimetres from hers now and she could feel his hot breath on her face.

Then he sniffed her.

'He sniffed me!" Her thoughts came to a sudden stop. 'Why the hell is he sniff-...,' she gasped softly, '...I know he didn't drink any of the potion! Or DID he? Did I miss him drinking it?' Her mind reeled as she tried to get out of his grasp once more, but now with more urgency, her face mirroring her dawning horror. It didn't take him much effort to stop her attempts of escape, as he gave her a violent shake, jarring her into submission.

Thusly spoke the demon.

"Who sent you?" He said in a dangerous voice. Alanna blinked once. Twice. He shook her one more time. "I will not repeat myself, madam. Answer the question!" he hissed menacingly staring down at her.

"I don't...kn..know what y...you are talking about." She managed to pant out, trying to avert her gaze from him. Circe, he scared her, and his deep voice didn't help that fact one little bit. Even though he was speaking to her in little more than a whisper, she could tell his voice was a deep baritone rumbling through his chest: which she still was conveniently plastered against firmly.

"Don't lie to me. I can smell the potion on you!"

Alanna involuntarily sniffed her collar. 'Bollocks...he's right!' She could smell the faint aroma of the Ashwinder eggs and Oysters she stewed this morning, and wrinkled her nose. Thanking the Gods that it was dark and he couldn't see her blush she stammered: "Nobody sent me...I...I swear!"

"What a bad little liar you are." He ground out venomously before he shifted his grip on her. Had Alanna not been scared to begin with, she knew she was bloody petrified now. His right hand slithered down to her waist and gripped her harshly there, while his knee snaked itself between her legs. She gasped loudly and tried to push him away with her freed hand, but failed miserably as the black fabric of his robes cocooned her body. His knee insistently rubbing against her intimately in a way she had not yet experienced.

To her utter horror, she could feel her body reacting to his in a not so subtle way, beginning with a tingle in her stomach that spread toward her lower abdomen. 'Damn those teenage hormones!" She thought savagely, while he placed her other hand flat against his chest, her fingers rubbing softly against his woollen frock; the texture rough and unyielding.

She could feel his breath again, not on her face, but close to her ear as he expertly began to nibble on her sensitive lobe. A whimper escaped Alanna's lips before she could stop herself. Heat seemed to course through her veins, eliciting a very new sensation for her, robbing her breath when he his tongue swirled over the sensitive skin right behind her ear. The smell of rosemary and musky vanilla radiated from his body and engulfed her as she lost all sense of reality. She felt a compelling urge to angle her head and delicately lick the steady pulse in his neck...

That sweet, hot breath in her ear was sending shivers down her spine, pooling where he held onto her waist. Then that skilled mouth began to speak in a cold tone, completely belying the hot warmth he was exuding across the gooseflesh of her skin.

"Is THIS what you wanted?" His claw-like grip forced itself beneath her robes touching the skin of her waist. "Have you been sent here to gather information?"

Her eyes searched his in confusion as his hands slowly moved upwards. "No, I haven't...please..." Alanna's breath caught as his thumbs feathered across the bottom of her breasts.

He loomed over her, crushing her personal space with his frame and hotly hissing into her ear. "THIS is what happens when you dare play with potions."

He pushed her back forcefully and turned on his heel without a backward glance. Alanna watched him in morbid fascination as he walked across the lawn, a black shadow that melted into the darkness of the forest. It had taken her a full fifteen minutes to quell her racing heart before she could sneak back into the manor, righting her clothes as she walked on jellied legs.

Opening 'Dark Potions and Their Every Day Uses', she pushed those memories aside.

It did not take her long to convince her Professor that any form of Seduction Potions would not be safe to brew for various reasons he seemed oblivious. He insisted on their intrinsic value in the defence against the Dark Arts.

Dark Arts indeed. Very dark...and handsome...and...she digressed.

No, she would continue to learn about dark potions just as she had planned. Besides, none of the dark potions she had brewed left her with erotic nightmares about a demon lover with unfathomable black eyes that probed into her very soul.

**Authors Note**: One-hundred and seventy-two centimetres 5'8 feet


	2. A day in the Life of

**Potions: What Would a Girl Do Without It?**

**by Slave4Severus**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and any original characters I will add in as I deem necessary. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling. Should any other literary references be used, they will be so noted at that point.**

Alanna woke bathed in sweat, her limbs twisted in her satin sheets making it near impossible to detangle herself. Her breath was coming in short gasps in a futile attempt to calm her racing heartbeat. Sleeping was definitely out of the question at this point, even though the gray of dawn was barely touching the night sky. She leaned back against the mahogany headboard and tried to untangle herself from her sheets.

Her "demon" haunted her dreams at least once a month, even though she had not laid eyes on him in over a year, yet she could still recall his touch and unique scent as if it were only yesterday. Alanna groaned at herself in disgust and slid to the edge of the bed throwing her feet over its side.

As they connected with the carpet, a menacing growl split the silence.

A massive, snarling dog was lying at her feet, exposing several rows of serrated, wedge-shaped teeth. His blood-colored eyes were fixed on Alanna's ankles, as he began nipping at them.

"Oh! I am so sorry, Peaches."

She smiled at her pet and ruffled the gray-black fur between his ears. The Irish Wolfhound/Barghest mix grunted audibly and situated his large frame into another comfortable position, where he lay down with a resounding thud. She regarded her familiar and smiled at his antics.

'He is worse than an old man,' she thought to herself as she began her morning routine.

After a quick shower and a change into every-day casual robes she faced her bathroom mirror to deal with her tangled hair. Alanna gazed thoughtfully at herself.

'By the Gods, I wish I were not so plain!'

Her soft auburn tresses framed a heart-shaped face with high cheek bones. Blue-green eyes stared back at her and settled on a pert little nose graced with a spattering of freckles, her full lips etched into a frown. With a spell she dried and tamed her hair, mumbling softly:

"It's sad, but this is as good as it gets."

"Well dearie, shall we hope tomorrow gets better," the mirror called after her, adding to her frustration.

She retrieved her wand and school books from her desk and quietly made her way down to the kitchen. Zippy was expecting her and began fussing the minute she stepped into the house elf's domain.

"Little Miss up already?" She squeaked surprised.

"Yes, Zippy, I...er...had problems sleeping. I thought I would get some breakfast before working on my term project in the lab." She walked to the small table in the corner of the pristine kitchen and sat down gracefully.

"What does Little Miss want? Little Miss looking peaky this morning. How about tea and cinnamon toast?"

"Thank you, Zippy, that would be lovely."

"Are you talking to the help again?"

Alanna turned in her chair and looked at her mother in the doorway. Melanie Flint was a striking woman of one-hundred and seventy-eight centimeters, with ebony hair, piercing blue eyes, and a soft smile she mostly reserved for her daughter. She was strong willed and very much a pureblooded witch, a concept she, to this day, had tried to instill in her daughter. Since Alanna was a toddler her mother tried to properly educate her on a pureblood's social standings in the Wizarding world. First and foremost...'you do not talk to the help'...closely followed by...'do not befriend or acknowledge half-bloods and Muggleborns...unless they fill a means to an end.'

Needless to say, Alanna thought most of the things her mother taught her before her seventh birthday were pretty trivial and just...utter rubbish! Since then, she had plastered a serene smile on her face and let her mother 'educate' her while she was reciting various potions or Arithmancy theories to herself.

Honestly, why should she not be allowed to speak to a Muggleborn or half-blooded witch or wizard based on their parentage? What bollocks! At this point, Alanna would be happy to just have a FRIEND for a change. She was surprised she had not turned completely nutters yet.

"Honestly, Lana dear, we have dining rooms for this sort of thing." Melanie arched a perfectly plucked brow at her only child.

"Good Morning, Mum." Alanna replied smiling, returning to her light breakfast. She knew that deep down inside her mother truly loved her, but the expression of said feelings had always been few and far between. On this morning however, Melanie swept into the kitchen and hugged Alanna tightly before placing a chaste kiss on her forehead.

'Odd, she has not done that since I've been twelve. I wonder what is going on..." Alanna returned her hug and looked up at her mother questioningly.

"Alanna, your father and I need to have an important talk with you tonight after dinner." She took the seat next to her daughter and waited for her answer.

"Of course, I will be there. I will come straight to your rooms after my piano lesson, alright?" She finished her breakfast and rose from her chair, smiling forcefully down at her mother.

'Oh Gods...I wonder if they found out about the python in the greenhouse...or Grandmama's antique silver that I melted for the Soul-Resurrection potion last month...or the Limb-Reattachment potion from last WEEK...or...'

"That will be perfect." Melanie said softly, and watched her child walk out of the kitchen. The evening could not come soon enough in Melanie's eyes.

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

Alanna spent most of her morning in the family library, searching for various books on potions and curative ingredients that could be useful in creating an antidote to the Hemorrhaging Curse, a pet project she had been working on for nearly three months.

Around 8:00 she made her way to the private classroom in the west wing of the manor, still thinking about the puzzling encounter in the kitchen from earlier that morning.

The classroom was sparsely furnished with a big mahogany desk and matching chair by a ceiling-high window on the far end. A wall length blackboard graced the north side of the room, while a second desk, belonging to the Professor, was situated closer to the door. The rest of the wall space was covered with yards of books on every subject imaginable. Alanna was proud to say that she read all of these books at least twice! Professor Correlius was already waiting for her, snapping her out of her thoughts with a curt:

"Good Morning, Miss Flint. Please, get out parchment and quill for an impromptu test."

Alanna groaned softly and crossed the room. Exactly what she needed after a sleepless night...a damnable test! She quickly made her way over to her desk, getting out a fresh sheet of parchment and a quill from her bag. The professor began to pace around the room in stern concentration, contemplating his first question, and abruptly turning toward her.

"What, Miss Flint, are the properties of Wormwood and Aconite in the 'Draught of Living Death', include in your answer at least five other potions these two ingredients may be combined in, with either ill-effects or successful fusions. Write a minimum of one roll of parchment." Professor Correlius eyed his pupil and resumed his pacing while thinking of another question.

'Great! I know this one!' Alanna smirked and began to scratch the quill over the parchment with lightning speed.

"Next, Miss Flint, you will write at least one full parchment on dreams and their interpretation, as outlined in chapter fifteen from 'The Future Beyond Earl Grey' by Cassandra Vablatsky. Make sure you include detailed analysis of all five dream stages and their relation, and accuracy, to foreseeing the future. Use last nights dream as your example."

'Oh damnation!'

Not only was she utter crap at Divination, but she would NOT analyze last nights dream. The professor would either faint of shock or SHE would die of embarrassment. 'Well, I guess I could lie and say I saw the Grim...I really wouldn't be too far off.' She smirked and continued writing.

As the morning rolled over into the afternoon, Alanna commenced with her practical courses of the day. She was scheduled to have her weekly flying lesson with her father, and looked forward to the needed exercise. Absentmindedly rubbing the back of her aching neck, she sauntered across the lawn with her Nimbus 2000 slung over her shoulder, inhaling the fresh October air with relish. Her father was already waiting for her by the outskirts of the forest.

"Are you ready, love?" He bestowed her with a boyish grin as he kicked off hard from the ground and soared above the tree tops. Alanna grinned as well, mounting her own broom and followed suit. The crisp breeze ruffled her hair while she soared high above the trees to where her father was waiting for her.

"So, after refining your racing skills last week, I have decided to teach you something more dangerous. Watch and learn."

'More _dangerous_?'

Was he kidding her? Last week she was all but killed trying to keep up with his antics. Not only had they been racing each other, but he had also tried to knock her off her broom, bumping into her from every imaginable angle, while she was forcefully concentrating on keeping the broom steady and herself on top.

If he had not insisted on teaching his daughter evasive maneuvers at an early age, she would have undeniably killed herself last week. But, alas, she was still amongst the living and not at all pleased to learn something _more_ dangerous than last weeks lesson. Alanna watched her father with baited breath as he descended at rapid speed into the forest below.

"Oh, you have_ got_ to be kidding me." She said out loud, while her father disappeared into a very densely populated part of the forest.

'I am _not_ going in there.'

She thought to herself, while searching for her father's form to immerge between the treetops. It did not take long before she could make out a figure dashing from the forest ten yards ahead of her. Her father turned sharply and made his way straight toward her at breakneck speed, stopping his broom a few inches from Alanna's. She arched a brow at him, and he responded with booming laughter.

"Surely, you aren't scared of a few trees Alanna, darling."

"It's not the trees I am worried about, but my flying capabilities to not _hit_ any of them."

Farrell shrugged and pointed at a small opening at the top of the trees right below them. "When you enter the forest, make sure that you fly as closely to the ground as possible. The objective of this lesson is not only to avoid the tree trunks, but also to weave through the trunks at high speed."

Alanna let out a loud sigh. "How can anything this dangerous be educational, Papa?" She stared at him in disbelief.

His smiling face faded into a mask of indifference, staring at his daughter intently. "Miss Flint, when I ask for your opinion you will know. Now, as your teacher you will address me with the proper respect that I deserve, _and_ will not second guess my teaching methods. When I expect you to barrel dive, you will. When I demand of you to fly faster than you ever have before, you will. When I tell you to jump through a hoop... you will! Is that perfectly understood?"

"Yes, sir."

She cast her eyes downward, but defiantly clenched her teeth. She hated it when he treated her as if she was a young child. Honestly! The only time he treated her inn such a manner was when something was truly bothering him. She watched him as he fished in his robes for his pocket watch, wondering what could have made him so edgy today. Alanna desperately hoped it had nothing to do with 'The Talk' that was to come tonight.

After retrieving his watch, he nodded curtly. "You have two minutes...beginning...now!"

Alanna cleared her head of all thought and directed the broom handle downward, shooting at a ninety degree angle towards the black hole at the top of the trees. As the darkened forest engulfed her she tried to make out the mossy earth before she hit it. Branches and twigs tore at her face, hair and robes making her flinch in pain.

'Merlin! Is this truly necessary?' She ranted, distracting her from her flight for less than a second. Unfortunately, she was only two seconds away from crashing headfirst into the ground. Letting out an unladylike yelp, she pulled the handle of the broom upwards, missing a rather nasty looking boulder by centimeters. As the broomstick leveled she leaned as far down the handle as she could; slowly shifting her body to allow subtle adjustments to the pressure of her thighs and knees for better grip. The broom lurched and quickly picked up speed.

Alanna concentrated very hard to maneuver through the densely populated trees as her broom shot forward at an insane velocity, rogue branches hitting her sides, arms, and face. One in particular made a nasty welt on her forehead, forcing her to loose her focus yet again. How she could have missed the two huge tree trunks that were looming before her, she did not know, but her eyes widened and her breathing hitched in anticipation of the biggest smack of her life.

"Oh, shit!" She squealed as her over-production of adrenaline kicked in, sharpening her motor reflexes, causing her to pull hard on her broomstick. Alanna barely covered her face with her arm as the Nimbus barreled through the foliage. She was battered yet again with branches and finally broke through the treetops into the sunny sky.

Breathing heavily she stopped her broom and hovered to collect herself, picking random pieces of debris from her body. Her face stung with cuts and bruises and she could feel blood, hot and sticky, running down the side of her face and forehead. With a swipe of her sleeve she mopped at her face in frustration.

Farrell was already by her side, concern etching his features at her thrashed appearance. Drawing his wand, he mended her cuts and bruises with a quick spell, raising a brow at her before speaking.

"I would have expected better from you Alanna. You did not make it farther than three acres before remerging." He turned his broom and flew back to their starting position. Alanna was still breathing hard, but felt much better after being patched up.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with him! I did the best I could!" She said through clenched teeth.

The slight burn in her forehead was persisting, but would settle within a few minutes, even though the headache her father was giving her would have to wait until she could brew a batch of headache potion later that night. Unfortunately, she knew that he would not let her go until he was satisfied with her progress. Dreading the coming hours, she flexed her thigh muscles picking up speed, as she flew after her father.

"You will do this lesson, until I am satisfied with your results." Before Alanna could protest he gave her a stern look, retrieving his pocket watch from his robes. "Begin...NOW!"

'This is going to be the longest day of my life.' She thought viciously, as the darkness of the forest engulfed her yet again.

**Author's Note:** Please Review! This is my first fic and _constructive_ criticism is welcome! One-hundred and seventy-eight centimeters is equal to 5'10".


	3. Something Afoot

**Potions: What Would a Girl Do Without Them?**

**by Slave4Severus**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and any original characters I will add in as I deem necessary. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling. Should any other literary references be used, they will be so noted at that point.**

Night was fast approaching the secluded Scottish country side. The lush green hills, wild and beautiful, were covered with the dew of freshly fallen rain and the dark clouds that lingered promised more. The air had grown crisp and a cold breeze lightly shook the tops of the majestic trees that hid the manor from prying eyes. Ten miles to the east the rippling waters of Loch Fyne were dark, gray and foreboding. Nothing but the soft rustling of the foliage cut the eerie silence surrounding the estate.

A cold breeze ruffled the dog's black-gray fur. He was roaming the dark forest for easy prey, weaving through the trees soundlessly. The massive claws did not hinder the animal in the slightest as it made its way through the underbrush, its red eyes, like hot coals, piercing the darkness. Then suddenly, its' great head jerked up and the huge body of the animal went rigid in mid-stride. He sniffed the air unobtrusively, cautiously even, followed by a low, menacing growl. The scent that lingered in his nostrils reeked of humans. A sweet, putrid smell that could only come from an over production of adrenaline and sweat. The dog sat back on his haunches and inhaled the scent deeply. He knew by instinct that there was more than one human roaming his forest and that there was something profoundly wrong about this situation. Silently, he followed his nose deeper into the forest in search of the offending smell.

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Flint Manor lay dark and unyielding beyond the trees. From the front of the house there seemed to be no sign of life, all windows having been shuttered and lights extinguished. To the unschooled eye it seemed that there was no visible indication of residency, but Lucius Malfoy begged to differ. He gracefully stepped from the shadows of the trees and regarded his surroundings intently. It has been a while since last he had seen it, four months to be exact. His last encounter with Farrell Flint could not have been called a very hospitable one. A faint sneer graced his handsome face as he wrapped his black cloak closer to his body. He vaguely remembered why he made advances towards the lady of the house. Granted, she was a beauty, but nothing out of the ordinary that a man of his stature has not taken delight in before, but there was just that certain 'Je ne sais quoi' that he had to know for himself. So, there he was, a guest at a private dinner party lusting after his hosts exquisite wife. And he would have her of course, or his name would not be Malfoy, or better yet Death Eater Extraordinaire. It was common among Death Eaters to share their wives with each other. Hell, some even shared the other women of their household without missing a beat; but he digressed. Unfortunately, he never got further than pressing Melanie up against the foyer wall and stealing a few passionate kisses from her unwilling lips before he was stopped dead in his tracks, by no other than her husband himself. By all means, it was not the first time that a husband had tried to stop his advances, but it was the look in the man's eyes that gave him away. That tell tale look of disgust and contempt, so uncommon for a true Death Eater that had sparked his suspicions of Farrell's loyalty. Of course you could not condemn a man for fending off another gentleman's advances to shag his wife, but that small grain of doubt had been planted within him.

Over the past four months he had been busy finding out everything he could about Farrell; mostly from his jealous younger brother Faustus. He smiled viciously as he remembered how simple it was to extract the right type of information from the sniveling idiot. Farrell had been a Death Eater for the past twenty years, but had become more withdrawn during the last five, much to the Dark Lord's dismay. Unfortunately, the many rounds of Crucio failed to pull him back out of his shell, and Lucius had to admit that the revels were truly not as much fun without Farrell's...desire to perform. Faustus' thirst for power however proved to be the undoing of his brother. All Lucius had to do was mention the rewards of being in the inner circle of Death Eaters, the Dark Lord's elite, and Faustus was only too willing to dish up any funny business pertaining to his brother. He guessed brotherly love only went so far; and in this case not very far at all. Secret nightly meetings with strangers, "business trips" that nobody knew he was on, and the heavily warded estate were only the tip of the information iceberg. Based on these few facts alone the Dark Lord grew suspicious as well and had Lucius instigate a trap for Farrell to fall into. A bit of misinformation here, a planned revel in which Muggle teenagers were to be sacrificed there, and the perfect trap was laid. All he had to do now was wait; with Severus unfortunately, but he did not let that spoil his fun. Like clockwork at precisely eight in the evening four Auror's silently made their way onto the scene were the supposed revel was to take place, but, alas, no fornicating Death Eaters. Good for us, bad for Farrell.

Based on the darkness of the manor Lucius knew he was expected. His elegantly gloved hand slid under the black cloak to retrieve his wand and he quickly began to lower the complicated wards without detection. A sly smile played on his lips.

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The lights in the ballroom had been dimmed considerably, but Alanna hardly noticed them. She was too consumed in her playing to really notice anything. Her eyes were closed in reverie as her fingers caressed the white and onyx keys, her body swaying slightly in emphasis. Even though her body was screaming with tension from the day's activities her mind was perfectly focused on creating a different type of magic...when she wasn't thinking about how she had to dodge every bloody tree in the forest!! Her entire body ached from various broken bones she had received during her numerous flights. Two ribs, her right ankle, fractured right femur (nasty run in with a 500-year-old oak), and a dislocated shoulder were only a few of the injuries she had to be patched up for. Her tolerance for pain has always been high, but not her tolerance for endangering her life without reason. True, her father was there to mend all of her fractures and abrasions, but he was definitely not a medi-wizard. Now, all Alanna wanted to do was find the quiet sanctuary of her lab and brew a couple of potions for her desperate body. She sighed softly. At least the piano took care of her immediate frustration.

As Alanna was nearing the close of the piece the unmistakable image of a ghost materialized behind her left shoulder. A soft smile graced the transparent lips of the lady; her eyes too were closed with delight as the last chord rang out and reverberated through the ballroom. Alanna finally opened her eyes and inhaled deeply.

"Miss Flint, ma chèrie."

Alanna shifted on her piano bench and looked at, or rather through, her teacher.

"Zat was trés beautiful. I especially loved ze...spirited rendition of the prelude. All of my lecturez 'ave not been in vain, I see."

Alanna raised a brow at her deceased piano professor. 'If she thinks playing overly harsh and in a foremost loud fashion then yes, you could have called it spirited.'

"You 'ave made great progress zis term, ma petite. I will zee you next week. Class dizmissed." With another genuine smile Madame Phantôme vanished, magically unlocking the ballroom doors.

Alanna stiffly got up from the piano bench, closing the lid to the keys with a soft thud. Her mind was already going over the needed ingredients for her muscle relaxant potion, she was proud to say that she not only created an oral version, but also a form of bath oil that worked itself into the skin. She longed for a very, very hot bath, right after her parents little talk. As she turned to walk out the wall sconces began to extinguish themselves, casting everything in utter darkness.

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His steps were silent as he made his way over the perfectly manicured lawn toward the house. He did have to admit that lowering the wards was more difficult that he had expected, and he was past schedule. That would never do of course. Stealthily, Lucius made his way to the side of the manor searching for a subtle way to penetrate its walls, his eyes searching the highest most windows for any movement in the darkness. That's when he heard it, the unmistakable sound of a piano being played in the distance. Like a moth to a flame, Lucius turned toward the sound and carefully walked to the back of the house; eerily attracted by the disembodied melody. When he reached the rose garden he stopped in mock surprise.

'Dear me, there is actually someone in the Flint family who has some taste?' His lips curled slightly at his own jest. 'Rachmaninov...Piano Prelude...in G minor.' He did not want to admit to himself that he was listening to true talent, or he would have felt a pang of guilt for being forced to torture the musician. He was intrigued, however, as he walked through the garden and up the terrace steps, his wand at the ready. He recognized his surroundings immediately, having been invited to high society balls here before. If he recalled correctly there was a nice little nook by the last bay window that would allow him to view all the goings in the ballroom without detection. Even though it would have been more of Severus' style to hide and play Peeping Tom, he convinced himself that he was trying to keep a low profile. A Malfoy, of course, never hides ...or Peeps for that matter.

Tucked securely into his perfect hiding place, Lucius searched the darkened ballroom for any type of movement and did not find any. 'How strange.' He thought as he pointed his wand at the first window and with a circular flick muttered a soft spell. The darkness seemed to melt away from the window, revealing the room beyond cast in soft candle light.

"Deflection charms, old man? Not very original." He breathed out in a whisper, as his steely gray eyes focused on the grand piano in the middle of the room.

His eyes widened in surprise at what he saw. A young girl, no woman, was seated at the piano playing the keys in rapt concentration. Her hands deftly flying to the quick pace of the Prelude, her upper body swaying delectably in quiet expression. Her sleek auburn hair fell in soft, glossy waves down her back, creating a dark red halo around her angelic features. Lucius looked upon her with the devilish delight of a connoisseur, who knew a prize when he saw one. Her high cheekbones, full lips, and heart shaped face were all signs of good breeding, something he valued in females. Her eyes were closed, making him ache to know what color lay beneath those black-dusted lashes; he hoped they were a lush green to go with that beautiful hair of hers. He appraised her age around 17 or 18, making her ripe for the plucking in his eyes. Hell, he had plucked younger! His eyes focused on her slightly parted lips and a jolt of electricity went through him. Although he could not make out her entire body, due to the blasted instrument, his eyes wandered over her simple cobalt blue robes to the swell of her breasts. Lucius loved his women to be slight, but he would make an exception with her. He wondered who the little dove was. In the end it really did not matter who she was. If she was in the house at the time of the raid, she would be his for the taking. He subconsciously wet his lecherous lips.

"My, my, my, what have you been hiding from us, Farrell." He softly crooned to himself

A sudden movement in the ballroom forced Lucius to lean back into the shadows. He watched as the outline of a ghost materialized behind the girls left shoulder. When he thought that this encounter could not become any odder than it already had, the ghost began to speak with her. He could barely make out what the specter was saying, but two words seemed to ring out true and clear.

Miss Flint.

Lucius could hardly contain his glee at this new turn of events. 'MISS Flint! Oh, this will be priceless.' He chortled to himself. The Dark Lord would be so pleased with this new turn of events. An innocent life that could be tortured in his name has always been looked upon in favor. Especially, if it was the daughter of a traitor. He quickly turned from the terrace, having seen enough. His strong, steady strides lead him back to the edge of the forest, where he turned back for one last glance. His lips curled into an evil smile.

"Do not leave now, Miss Flint. We have . . . unfinished business."

With those soft spoken words of promise he pivoted on his heel and proceeded into the darkness of the forest.

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The animal sniffed the rapidly cooling night air. There it was again. That horrid human smell that would not leave. They were gathering, he knew that now. He followed at least eight different humans around his forest for the past two hours, and the air brought the scents of at least ten more. He growled lowly in anticipation as he neared a small clearing in the heart of the forest. He knew the place well, having had snared a few deer here before, and silently made his way over to a big bolder situated at the south side of the alcove. Here, he had the perfect spot to watch them as he pleased. There were nineteen of them all together, dressed in black from head to foot murmuring softly to each other. Their smell was overpowering now, chasing away any inhabitants of the forest that ventured too close to their place of meeting. His red coal eyes diminished to menacing slits, sizing up every human in the clearing. He could sniff out the growing sense of anticipation, oozing from these lowly creatures with every passing minute. Something was making them very excited. He did not know what, but he would sit here and wait before he made a move.

**Author's Note**: Thank you for leaving your reviews! I really appreciate them. Mysticsong1978 created Peaches for me, if you would like to view him, for yourself, please visit MysticSong1978's webpage which is accessible through her Fan Fiction profile.


	4. Sins of the Father

**Potions: What would a Girl Do without It?**

**By Slave4Severus**

**Disclaimer: I still do not own any of J.K.R. characters. Even though I wish I did.**

"Why is it so bloody dark in here?" Alanna said sounding a bit flummoxed. The doors of the ballroom closed with a soft thud behind her, the sound echoing through the marble floored receiving hall. She stood rooted to the spot, her eyes struggling to become accustomed to the dark. Finally, feeling comfortable enough to move forward she took in her darkened surroundings with trepidation. She had never felt ill at ease in her own home, but something was just not right. Something more than unlit fireplaces and darkened rooms. She tread softly down the hallway towards the foyer and the front of the house, feeling an unknown need to keep as quiet as possible. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest as she crept into the foyer, darkness swallowing every nook and cranny. Pressing herself against the left grand staircase she peaked through the banister to find the foyer also deserted.

"Zippy?" she whispered softly, but the house elf did not make an appearance. Alanna furrowed her brow in confusion. The Flint house elves are required to answer her summons, so why did Zippy not appear? What could have possibly stopped her from answering? Or who for that matter? The answer came to her with a flash: her father. Anger licked up from the pit of her stomach, replacing the fear she had just experienced. Was this another one of his infamous tests? Did she also have an impromptu Defense against the Dark Arts practical exam to endure on top of the arduous flying lesson from this afternoon? In a swift motion Alanna retrieved her wand from the hidden pocket embedded in the lining of her robes.

'Well, not with me,' she thought viciously as she rounded the corner of the staircase and began ascending them as quickly as she could. She was livid with her father trying to scare her this way. Throwing all caution to the wind she turned at the top of the stairs to towards her private laboratory instead of going to her parents' private chambers.

'They can wait!' she ranted silently, while only a small orb of light cast from the tip of her thin, mahogany wand illuminated her passage to the lab.

'If I do not brew that muscle relaxant potion soon I am going to be stiff for three days,' she contemplated, as her hand connected with the familiar door knob. She swiftly entered and charmed the wall sconces alight. A soft glow permeated the room, illuminating the sparsely furnished lab. Alanna exhaustedly made her way to her storage case in the left hand corner and quickly gathered all the ingredients she needed for her potion, placing them on the long wooden table next to her cauldron. Her eyes fell upon a small package, hidden only just by a pillow on her red velvet couch. She wrinkled her forehead in puzzlement and hesitantly walked towards her 'thinking' couch. She carefully moved the pillow and stared at the brown package before her.

'Should I touch it?' She had read about portkeys and what handling one could lead to. At this point she did not trust her father to 'play nice,' and with that in mind she carefully eyed the parcel. It looked benign enough, but looks could be deceiving. Alanna retrieved her wand from the table where she placed it a few minutes past, and cast a couple of complex revealing charms on it.

Nothing.

Satisfied that it would not send her to Timbuktu she sat beside it on the couch and carefully placed both hands on its sides.

A crimson glow began to engulf it, creeping up her hands and arms within a few seconds, activating a revealing charm.

"Bloody Hell!" Alanna exclaimed and promptly dropped the small package in front of her feet, as if burnt. Her eyes scanned the perimeter of her lab hastily expecting someone or something to swoop down on her. She stood there a few minutes, wand at the ready, straining her ears and controlling her breathing, waiting for the imminent attack, but nothing happened. Her gaze ventured downward toward the wayward package that now lay discarded at her feet. She quickly noticed the letter that lay mere inches from her toes with her name upon it. Alanna quickly knelt down beside it and carefully picked up the roll of parchment with her wandless hand.

"This is strange." She said softly and broke the green wax seal beneath her name. As the familiar scrawl of her father welcomed her, she slowly got up and sat on the couch; reading.

_My Darling Alanna,_

_If I know you correctly you will have gone to your laboratory, your second home, instead of obeying your mother and come straight to our chambers after your piano lesson. In case of that occurrence I have formulated this letter. _

_My sweet child, I wish there would be more time for me to tell you how much your mother and I love you, and how proud we are to be your parents. We have trained and educated you well, Alanna, always trust in your abilities and be comfortable in knowing where your strengths lie. You are a true asset to the Flint lineage and its noble bloodlines, but I need you to be brave for me, my darling. It is with heavy heart that we have to tell you of a plot against our family. I wish I had the time to explain it all to you, except that time is limited. As I am writing this, evil is congregating only a few feet past the manor gates. I need you to trust me now Alanna. It is imperative that you leave these grounds and this house tonight. All of our lives are in grave danger, threatened by many who want revenge for my sins. I have been asking the Gods for forgiveness in hopes that you and your mother will be spared, but you will have to take your destiny into your own hands none the less. You have probably been wondering why you had to endure the rigorous lesson this afternoon, but know that you have been sufficiently prepared in case you should be pursued to your destination. _

_The following items have been placed into the package that I have left for you. There is a heavy black cloak that should shield you from most of the harsh weather on your journey. Also, I have left you a broomstick that has been charmed to stay on course to your destination, no matter how many evasive maneuvers you have to take. You will be flying north into the highlands, to Hogwarts Castle to be exact. There, you will deliver the second letter that has been addressed to Albus Dumbledore, also enclosed in the parcel. He will protect and take care of you in our absence, until we come to retrieve you. Finally, I packed the following potions for your trip: Pepper-up potion (to be taken now for your no doubted exhausted state), Fortifying Draught (to be taken en route in case you need it), and a vial of Draught of Living Death (take this only when you have been captured, I do not need to tell you what its properties are, It should help you sleep through the worst of it)._

_In parting, I need to remind you to not come searching for us. We WILL reunite soon, my darling, and your mother and I need to know 100 percent that you will do as you are told and fly to Hogwarts. Nothing, and I will repeat this for you Alanna, nothing is to stop you from going. Even if your mother and I have been captured, you need to fly north, and I need your total cooperation on this. The wards of the Castle will let you in, the broom has been charmed accordingly, do not worry yourself about that. Also, you are to leave immediately after reading this parchment, do not go back to your room to retrieve anything. As much as it may tempt you, the sooner you leave the more likely it will be that your escape will remain undetected. I wish I would have known earlier about the grave situation we find ourselves in this evening, but sadly I will have to hug and kiss you another time, my heart._

_Do not forget what we have taught you. You will prevail._

_With love and devotion,_

_Your Father_

_P.S. The boa has been taken care of._

Alanna lowered the letter with trembling hands. What in the world had she just read? If she would not have been so shocked, she may have been chastised about her boa, but after this bit of news, all logical thought had escaped her. Her grasp on the parchment loosened slightly and it slid from her numb fingers, bursting into a small ball of flames and incinerating her father's message. She numbly stared in macabre fascination as the ashes floated to the ground and settled in a small heap in front of her.

She shook her head slightly trying to get her wits about her. Who would want to harm her family? She knew that her father was a very successful business man, but she always assumed he was a well loved man amongst his peers. All the dinner parties and balls her parents hosted in the past were filled with smiling and friendly people. At least the ones she could make out from her bedroom balcony above the rose garden. She was never allowed to attend any such gatherings, not until she was older they used to say. Well she must be old enough now, she supposed. Old enough to be forced to drink a potion so infamous it has even been documented in Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet to escape the horrors that may await her.

Her father had a lot of explaining to do when she would meet him at that Castle. Alanna leaned down and seized the package that still lay untouched on the floor before her. With trembling hands she quickly discarded the brown paper wrapping and the lid, only to stare at its contents. Her father's shrunk, black cloak was lying on top and she quickly removed it, placing it on the couch to her left. Next, she retrieved the miniature broom she recognized as her own Nimbus 2000, placing it beside the cloak. Quickly, she took out the Pepper-up potion and uncorked it, downing the vials contents in one swift motion.

The potion ran like lightning through her veins, rejuvenating her aching body and sharpening her exhausted mind. She placed the vial back into the box and turned to the cloak beside her. With a quick wave of her wand she enlarged the heavy mantle and draped it around her shoulders. She shortened it accordingly so it would not drag behind her or hinder her from walking, or running if it should call for it.

"I can not believe I am doing this." Her voice did not sound like her own, more like a stagnant twin of her lyrical soprano. Without much searching she found a small hidden pocket on the inside of the cloak in which she placed the miniature Nimbus for safe keeping. Turning to the box she removed the vial with the golden liquid containing the Strength Fortifying Potion and the second letter, much thicker than her own, also placing them with her broom. Lastly, her fingers closed upon the vial with the indigo blue potion. Alanna held her breath as she stared transfixed at the beautiful liquid in her hand. How could something so exquisite be so dark and dangerous?

Snapping out of her reverie Alanna hid the potion in her robes, closer to her body than the other one.

"Just in case." She muttered in a hushed voice.

She righted herself and distractedly ran her fingers over her robes trying to smooth out the wrinkles. She placed her wand in her right hand and quickly pulled the hood of the cloak over her head, shrouding her face in shadows. With a quick swish of her wand she extinguished the sconces leaving everything in absolute darkness. While trying to accustom herself to the darkness she summoned every ounce of courage she possessed to follow her fathers orders.

'Whatever happens I will prevail!' She convinced herself. Silently she made her way to the door, and opened it slowly. With a quick glance she assured herself of its desertion and stealthily began her journey.

Gods, how she wished she would have had the time to pee first.

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Lucius gracefully stepped into the clearing which he had designated as a meeting place for his fellow Death Eaters. He had already donned his cloak and mask before walking amongst them, joining their circle. Everyone present knew that Lucius had been the instigator of tonight's activities, and thus was their unspoken "leader" executing the Dark Lord's commands. All whispering or low conversing had ceased the instant he strode through their ranks, all waiting in anticipation for him to speak.

"My brothers, we have gathered here today to witness and implement the wishes of our Lord and Master." He paused dramatically before continuing.

"It is with heavy heart that we have to expose one of our own tonight, as a traitor to our Master and our cause." A soft murmur rippled through the ranks, some Death Eaters stepping from one foot to another anxiously. A slow smile spread across Lucius' face as he regarded the other men's discomfort; oh how he loved the power he had over them. He surreptitiously walked around the circle studying each masked man, finally stopping in front of a smaller, fleshier figure. Lucius leisurely brought forth his wand from the folds of his black cloak, twirling it prettily before the other's face.

"Faustus." He purred softly, but loud enough for the others to hear him. The other Death Eaters probably relieved that he was not singling them out, stepped back two steps in unison and closed the circle behind Faustus.

"Is there something you would like to tell me?" He began circling the shorter man, like any predator would its prey.

"N..No, Lucius." Faustus spluttered in fear.

"Nothing at all, old friend? There is not something you have forgotten to tell me?" Lucius drawled out smoothly.

"No, Lucius. I have told you everything I know about him." The dolt was becoming more nervous, but at least his speech was a bit more acceptable Lucius thought to himself. He abruptly stopped before the trembling man and placed his wand on Faustus' forehead, pressing firmly against the pallid skin.

"Then why IS it, that I was most surprised to find somebody else in your brother's house. Someone, who thankfully, has not inherited the prominent 'good-looks' of the Flint ancestry," Lucius hissed viciously.

"I…err…I swear, I did not…" Faustus stammered, his entire body shaking like a leaf.

"SILENCE! You pathetic waste of breath! I know exactly what you were thinking. You thought you could keep that little morsel all to yourself, did you not? You thought we were going to do your dirty work, while you reap all the spoils for the evening. The titles and lands of your brother, AND his lovely…" he pressed the wand farther into Faustus' forehead, "…young…" Lucius grabbed him by the scruff, "…daughter!"

A collective gasp was heard from the men around them, while Lucius threw the offending lump from himself with remarkable strength. He removed his mask and regarded the cowering figure with an icy sneer. Almost lovingly he pointed his wand once more before muttering: "Crucio!"

Faustus writhed on the forest ground in agony, clawing at his face and chest before a high-pitched scream erupted from his lungs, disturbing the silent forest. Lucius lift the curse moments later, with a satisfied curl to his lips.

"Let this be a lesson to you, Flint. Hopefully in your next life you will heed to cross a Malfoy." The killing curse hit Faustus swiftly and accurately, his limp body falling awkwardly to the ground.

"Mr. Flint." Lucius turned on his heel and singled out yet another Death Eater from the circle. As before the remaining Death Eaters stepped back and closed the circle behind them.

"Perhaps you would care to explain the sudden appearance of your cousin?" Lucius raised both brows slightly at the younger man.

"I have a cousin?" Marcus responded in confusion.

Lucius was becoming agitated, which did not do well with his fair complexion. He would become all splotchy, and…he digressed. With a quick hand movement he relieved Marcus of his mask and moved his face closely to the youths.

"If you value your ugly hide, you will tell me what I want to know." He hissed threateningly.

Marcus bristled. Lucius wondered if he had bad breath. With a sigh of extreme annoyance he cast _Legilimens_ on the disgusting troll and was welcomed with a plethora of sordid images. Only Lucius' good breeding kept him from retching as he recognized every misshapen witch from Knockturn Alley. Based on this alone he wanted to _Avada_ the freak, but he delved further into the recesses of Marcus' one track mind, and found...Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Oh yes, there were summers spent with his Uncle and Aunt, but there was never anything about his cousin.

Lucius was beginning to feel a twinge of doubt about his astute hearing, when he suddenly came upon a roadblock in the young man's memories. He intensified the eye contact and examined the very subtly hidden memory within. But here it was, all wrapped up in his primitive mind, and he was able to see her grow up and interact with her parents. Lucius laughed coldly as he discontinued the spell on Marcus, who promptly stumbled backwards with a look of confusion as his small mind tried to process the barrier Lucius had broken within.

"Farrell, I am impressed by your ingenuity." He said to nobody in particular as he turned from Marcus, addressing the other Death Eaters.

"As I have mentioned earlier, there is another we may amuse ourselves with tonight." Appreciative snickers and hoots were heard from the men around him.

"However, I get the girl first! Is that absolutely understood?" The other Death Eaters did not want to cross the head Malfoy, and grudgingly accepted his demand. They always had Farrell and his wife to amuse them with in the meantime.

"Good. Then my friends. Let us do what we do best." Lucius gestured gallantly with a mocking bow into the direction of the manor, and they departed the clearing. Marcus however was still rooted to where he stood, staring down at the corpse of his father. He then turned and faced Lucius' retreating back.

"My father!" He spat out furiously.

Lucius looked over his shoulder at the boy who had just become a man and smirked sardonically.

"Whoops!"

A flash of lightning burst across the sky splitting the heavens asunder. Marcus looked one last time at his father and grudgingly followed Lucius out of the clearing, mere seconds later powerful jaws snapped shut catching only empty air.

**Author's Note:** To see a picture of Alanna, please visit MysticSong1978's website (available through her profile) and check out Fan Fiction Artwork!

Also, if you have read this far, you might as well leave a review. I am STARVING for reviews. Hope you'll enjoy!


	5. Hexes and Curses

**Potions: What would a Girl Do without It?**

**By Slave4Severus**

**Disclaimer: I still do not own any of J.K.R. characters. Even though I wish I did. **

Alanna silently crept down the dark hallway leading to the mezzanine of the foyer. While she seemed cool and confident on the outside there was a war waging within her. There were so many questions that have been left unanswered by her father's letter, and many more that had arisen since then. As she walked to the hall leading to her chambers she stilled her steps. What harm could there be in gathering a few of her more precious belongings before exiting this place? It would not take long to gather her potions books, favourite quill, and diary. On second thought, while she was already in her rooms she could also take her favourite Dark Arts and Arithmancy books, along with her "thinking sweater," and…well maybe her father was right about not going to her rooms. She would have trouble leaving everything behind even if it was only for a few nights.

Alanna quickly turned from that particular hallway before she could change her mind; those potions texts were VERY tempting after all.

'Besides, who would want to have my books anyways? They are probably the most secure items in the house.' She tried to convince herself of that, and walked a little faster. As she approached the mezzanine her eyes roamed over the East wing corridor across from her, her parents chambers were only a few feet away. A small peek could not hurt, right?

'They surely would not get too upset by my presence.' She reluctantly assured herself. Alanna cast a quick glance at the entrance hall and the foyer from her vantage point by the statue of Morgane before flitting across the mezzanine in a flutter of robes and cloak. Safely on the other side she scanned the corridor for any signs of movement, but again found everything dark and silent. Cautiously, she approached the heavy oak doors to the master boudoir and steadied her breathing before tentatively knocking on it.

She waited a few seconds before turning her head and placing and uncloaked ear to the solid wood. She could not detect the faintest sound coming from the other side of the barrier, and in a moment of despair she placed both hands on the door and with a bowed head, she leaned her forehead against its coolness. Closing her eyes she prayed for strength from any God willing to supply it. What if her flying skills were not good enough to get her to that castle? What if something had happened to her parents? Why did she have to leave?

'Why?' she bumped her head into the door. 'Why?'…thump… 'Why?'…thump…

'Am I being punished for something?'…thump… Suddenly the door sprang open with an unnaturally loud creak. Alanna's trembling hand nudged the door imperceptibly, revealing a very cold and empty bedroom. Everything was shrouded in darkness, but nothing was out of place. The massive bed lay undisturbed, the small desk in the far corner was uncluttered, and the couch by the fireplace was not occupied by her mother's surly cat.

'Merciful Merlin! Even the cat got out before me!'

With a small humph she turned and left the bedroom, heading back to resume her original path down the stairs. Standing at the mouth of the hall she regained her bearings and slowly made her way down the grand staircase. One step… 'What was that sound?'…second step… 'It was probably nothing.' …third step… 'Sweet Merlin, I am louder than a Gryphon!' …fourth step… 'I need to stop talking to myself.' On her fifth step the foyer was illuminated by a flash of lightning and she let out a small yelp of surprise.

Without another thought she flew down the remaining stairs and skidded into the dining room and hid behind the door. Her breath was coming out in soft gasps and her adrenaline was fueling her mounting anxiety. It was finally settling in that she was truly…utterly….alone.

There was that sound again. She was not quite sure what it was, but this cloak was making her daft trying to identify it. In an impatient gesture she removed her hood and strained for the sound to come again.

Tap…There it was. Tap…tap…tap-tap…tap-tap-tap…

Her eyes were searching out the source and fell upon one of the bay windows a few feet away.

'Bloody Hell, Alanna!' She was staring at the first raindrops of the impending storm. 'At this rate, I will never get out of here.' She thought disgustedly and walked towards the kitchen. Upon entering, she found the exact same sight as in all the other rooms. Everything was particularly clean and undisturbed, as if nobody had been living here in months.

Alanna started. 'As if nobody has been living here.' She recited to herself. Maybe her father wanted to leave their house like this, so that whoever entered the mansion would notice its obvious vacancy and be deterred from searching the premises. Or perhaps to evacuate everyone from an unspeakable evil; she subconsciously placed her fingers upon the hidden blue vial. Whatever the answer to her questions, she had to leave her home. Not just because her parents wished it, but also because of the discomfort she was feeling in these once familiar walls; something as pure and innocent as her childhood home seemed to be tainted with evil.

She finally reached the door at the end of the kitchen leading into the gardens beyond. She quickly turned the bronze key and unlocked it softly before opening it a fraction to peek out. Satisfied that nobody was laying in wait for her, she opened it some more and was greeted with a cold gust of wind. She could smell the impending rainstorm on the frigid gale, and glanced up into the heavily clouded night sky. The storm that had been brewing for hours was promising more than the usual Scottish downpour, and she involuntarily shuddered at the thought of flying in this type of weather. The frosty air pricked her skin like nettles as she wrapped her cloak tighter around her form. Lightning flashed overhead illuminating the deserted grounds, a clap of thunder soon followed rumbling over the mountains as she slipped out of the kitchen and into the night.

Her eyes tried to focus on anything out of the ordinary while trying to covertly make her way across the lawn to the shelter of the forest. The frigid wind was howling through the crowns of the trees making them bow and creak in the darkness. Her hair was mussed and tangled within minutes, while her hood lay flat against her back, in a forgotten attempt to cover it. She quickly made it to the edge of the tree-line where she nervously fumbled for her Nimbus, and as she firmly grasped her hand around it she turned one final time to look at her home.

And stared at a large, black clad figure.

Alanna recoiled in fright taking several steps backwards until her spine slammed against an unidentifiable Spruce. In a haze of fear, her eyes roamed over the figure until they focused on the white mask starring back at her.

"Papa?" Her voice cracked on the word as she watched the man in front of her. What were mere seconds seemed like hours before he finally opened his arms for her. Without hesitation she ran into his embrace and clung to him for dear life.

"Oh Papa! I was so worried about you. I thought you left me. I thought…" her voice was muffled by the fabric of the man's cloak and she tried in vain to suppress the tears that have been threatening to fall for the past hour. The arms that engulfed her so securely tightened at her declaration.

"Shhhh." Was all he said while soothingly stroking her back. She tried to stop the flow of her tears, burying her face into the man's chest. She went rigid however when those comforting hands began to move under her cloak, stroking her sides and lower back, tugging at her robes. Confused she tried to wriggle out of his grasp while staring into his masked face. Her Papa would never do such a thing to her, as it dawned on her that she had flung herself into the arms of a total stranger.

His hands sharply wrapped around her wrists, which he pinned easily behind her back making her flinch in response. Her upper body was rendered utterly useless as it was pressed into his chest, crushing the breath out of her lungs. She stopped struggling for a moment to regain her composure while staring at the masked face above. Why had he not spoken to her yet? He was just staring at her face in the darkness. Alanna was becoming irritated with herself, for letting a stranger manhandle her this way. Was she not made of stronger stuff? Where was that courage when she needed it?

"Unhand me, sir!" She said through clenched teeth, while trying to hold on to the little shred of dignity she had left.

He chuckled before he softly spoke to her. "Why would I want to do that, my pet?" The lilt in his voice sounded oddly familiar to her.

'Who is this man?' She was racking her brain for a hint of memory, but could not turn up anything.

Suddenly, he shifted his grip on her and pushed her a few steps back against the same Spruce, pinning her uncomfortably with his lower torso. Her breath was coming out in short pants as she watched his gloved hand come closer to her face. He slowly traced her right cheekbone and jaw line with his index finger, resting it right below her lower lip. His other hand came up to his mask, softly muttering an incantation, and releasing it from his face. He leisurely removed his mask.

"Has your father never taught you not to trust strangers?" He purred with a sardonic curl to his lips.

Alanna's eyes grew wide in recognition. She was being pushed against a tree in a highly inappropriate manner by none other than…

"Mr. Platinum." Oh, Merlin. Did she just think that out loud?

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

Lucius watched by the trees as the Death Eaters fanned out over the property, wands drawn and ready to strike. A few waited outside the manor while the rest infiltrated through various doors and low lying windows. All he had to do now was wait for the fun to begin. A bitterly cold wind whipped around his cloaked form, making him bristle against its stinging grip. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a bit of movement by the back of the house. Fortunately, another bolt of lightning split the darkness and he could make out darkly cloaked figure exit the building, briskly walking towards the forest. The thunder was echoing off the mountains in the distance as he attached his mask with an adhesive charm and walked gracefully towards his next victim. He knew he was going to enjoy breaking her in immensely.

Regrettably, he was not the only one to have seen her attempted escape. He could recognize Knott and MacNair sneaking up on the chit without her noticing. Honestly! With the amounts of noise those two made by breathing alone she should have turned around by now; the lady in question however walked undeterred towards the trees. It only took Lucius a few 'longer' strides; a Malfoy would never run of course, to bypass the two imbeciles before they got to his little dove first. A quick shake with the head and point of the wand and they got the message, turning towards the door that was left open by its occupant. With a determined glint in his eye Lucius turned around and soundlessly followed his prey.

As they both approached the tree line the girl turned around quickly in mid stride only to find him three steps behind her. Her facial expression alone made his body twitch in anticipation. She looked up at him with a mixture of fear, confusion, and sorrow as she stumbled backwards against one of the trees. He knew she was not going anywhere and thus stood his ground a few feet away from her, watching the play of emotions on her delicate features with devious fascination. That was until the girl spoke.

"Papa?"

Lucius' eyes grew wide behind the mask and he thought he had not heard correctly. Here he was dressed in his Death Eater finest to elicit fear in anyone who may look upon him, and this waif of a girl is actually happy to see him. Where is the world coming to? And why, for Merlin's sake, does she think I am Farrell? Does the man flaunt his mask in front of his family? He thought about Narcissa's reaction to his uniform and had to suppress an ungentlemanly snort. That old bat would have strung him up by his balls if he would have dared to even keep these garments in the house. Pulling his thoughts to the task at hand he realized that this situation could be used to his advantage and wordlessly opened his arms to the trembling young woman before him.

She rushed into his embrace in a flurry of robes and auburn hair, pressing her tasty nubile flesh into his front.

'Sweet Merlin!' he thought as she shimmied closer into his embrace talking inaudibly into his cloak while his arms closed around her frame on their own volition. He could feel the swell of her breasts pressing against his upper abdomen and a pang of lust filled his body and lower extremities. Oh yes, he was going to REALLY enjoy this…if the woman would quit that incessant talking.

"Shhhh," he made the soft sound close to her ear in hopes that she would quit those maddening questions of hers. She was still relaxed in his embrace as he began to run his hands up and down her back, trying to accurately portray the father figure she had mistaken him for. Being the man that he was, though, his hands soon strayed to the other parts of her delectable body, running under her cloak and up her sides in an attempt to stroke her firm breasts. His delight rose as he felt her grow rigid beneath his insistent hands and struggle out of his embrace.

'I love it when they resist.' He thought scathingly as he reached for her wrists and expertly pinned them to her back, thrusting her breasts onto his upper body. She was breathing hard with effort at this point with her futile attempts of freeing herself from his grasp.

"Unhand me, sir!"

'The nerve!' He thought, surprised by her moment of bravery, but could not help but chuckle at her fortitude.

"Why would I want to do that, my pet?" He drawled out absentmindedly, while he was thinking of her breasts burning into his upper body.

'Too many bloody layers.' He mused as he grew impatient by their little 'foreplay,' and without further ado pushed her back several steps against another tree. He could hardly stand the sensation of her pinned against his hardening flesh, but he was determined to make this feeling last, not only for his physical pleasure, but also to see the reaction on Farrell's face when he broke his daughter in. In a deceptively loving manner he traced his gloved finger down the side of her face and jaw, placing it strategically below her lips. It was time to scare the living daylights out of her. He removed his mask with reverie anticipating that first moment when her eyes met his in the darkness.

"Has your father never taught you not to trust strangers?" Going by her behaviour tonight obviously not. He watched her beautiful eyes, which colour were still a mystery to him, grow wide with something a kin to recognition. Lucius thought the darkness had played a trick on him before he heard her breathy whisper.

"Mr. Platinum."

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Alanna was released in an instant, but before she could breathe a sigh of relief the man had pulled his wand from the folds of his cloak and positioned it close to her face. Gods, she wished her mouth would not get her into trouble all the time!

"Have we met before?" He asked conversationally while his wand made contact with her cloaked collar bone.

"No." She wished she could have said more to placate him, something witty perhaps, but 'no' was all that escaped her chapped lips.

Lucius knew there was something she was hiding from him. If he would have had the time to explore her thoughts he would have, but alas they were expected at the festivities. He unceremoniously grabbed her wrist, yanking her from the tree, positioning himself behind her and placing his wandless hand on her neck. He could feel her pulse racing beneath her delicate skin and caressed it tenderly, before whispering softly into her ear.

"Your parents are expecting us, my sweet."

Alanna could feel his warm breath tickling her ear and face while his hand placed feather light touches on her neck, she shuddered involuntarily. This must be the man her father had mentioned in her letter. The one she was supposed to flee from. Alanna was disgusted with herself for having been caught only a few feet from her doorstep. Honestly, how thick could she get! Her father would be very disappointed.

Lucius pressed his wand between her shoulder blades, emphasizing his intent to return her to the front of the manor, and she complied instantly. He curled his lips in pleasure at her submissiveness and tossed any thoughts of her wanting to escape him.

Alanna's mind was racing. She had to figure out how to get away from him before he would do to her what she had read about in her father's private library. She shuddered with disgust and tried to push away the images of human couplings that she had 'stumbled' upon by accident a couple of months ago. She would die before she would let him touch her. As she walked over the lawn she could feel the blue vial pressing against her side, and vowed not to hesitate if the need called for it. Alanna straightened her spine and lifted her chin in defiance; at least she would give the impression of being brave. Her thoughts wandered back to her Nimbus still tucked away in her cloak. If she could stun him somehow and get up on her broom she would be out of danger in no time.

How much trouble could one fully grown…strong…muscular…dangerous….man be? She gulped convulsively.

'Well, if you put it that way maybe that plan needs some modification.' She thought sarcastically.

Alanna rounded the corner to the front of the house and stopped abruptly as a bolt of lightning seared through the night casting a surreal glow on the scene before her. In front of the steps of her house were at least fifteen other figures dressed in the same attire as her captor with wands pointing at various bundles of rags on the ground. She could see the green and red sparks of their cruses hurdling toward the objects, hitting the writhing forms continually. The sight made her flinch in distress and she began to backup in horror, only to find herself bump into the man behind her. Were they torturing the house elves? Her eyes were still fixed on the scene when strong hands steadied her, gripping the flesh of her arms in a vice.

"Dear me, it seems you are the last guest of honor to arrive." He drawled out coldly before shoving her in the direction of the gathering. Alanna stumbled clumsily, loosing her footing and let out a cry of pain as her knees connected with the unyielding soil. Lucius grabbed her impatiently and pulled her upright, dragging the girl the rest of the way into the midst of the revel.

Alanna's knees felt like fire as she was pulled harshly from the ground and hauled a few feet into the circle of waiting men. With one final shove from the blond Alanna lurched forward and into the waiting hands of another solid black figure. Her back connected with his chest and thickly muscled arms coiled around her shoulders, pinning her into place. The man behind her did not lose any time exploring her body however and grabbed her breasts and thighs, making her cry out in pain. Before he could connect his lips to her neck however, Lucius stopped him with an icy stare.

"Remember what we discussed earlier, MacNair." He sneered while running his eyes over Alanna's body. He abruptly turned and walked towards the figures that were still lying on the ground.

Alanna struggled against her bonds with all of her might, but soon realized that her efforts were rewarded with a sudden tightening around her ribcage, making it difficult for her to breathe. She was frantically gasping for air as the man named MacNair effectively cut off her supply of oxygen until little white dots were clouding her vision.

In the meantime, Lucius regarded the two people lying on the ground before him cast only in the light of a few strategically placed _Lumos_ charms. With a swift kick of his booted foot he turned the man over on his back and studied his unconscious features. Farrell did not look well at all he mused with satisfaction. There was an abundance of blood running down the other mans head and face from various cuts and bruises. His knuckles were chaffed, probably out of retaliation, and his body convulsed involuntarily from the Cruciatus curse even now. With a smug smile he turned to the other victim of the evening. Melanie had not faired any better than her husband, though her body was mainly bruised than bloodied. The others probably did not want to get themselves too messy when they continued their fun with her, and thus left her face oddly mark free. Lucius looked down on her with distaste not believing that he actually wanted this woman only a few short hours ago. Lust was a fickle thing he mused before returning to Farrell's side and pulling his wand from his robes.

"_Enervate_!" He muttered softly and watched the man by his feet stir with a soft groan.

"Farrell, how good of you to join us." Lucius exclaimed, his words dripping with sweet sarcasm. He began circling the struggling man looking at him with contempt before he continued his speech.

"As you can see, all of your friends have come to see you." He made a sweeping movement and pointed at the Death Eaters who eagerly surrounded Lucius in their thirst for torture and blood. MacNair stood off a bit to the side, still clutching Alanna tightly to his chest while whispering lurid things into her ear, making her ashen faced and frantic. She had yet to realize who the others were crowding around.

Farrell raised himself from the ground and stood before his former comrades with as much dignity as he could muster. He stared defiantly at Lucius as he walked around to face him.

"Tut, tut, Farrell. You have greatly displeased our Master, and you know what he does to traitors, am I correct?" Lucius was taking immense pleasure in watching Farrell be cornered like a caged animal. Even though he enjoyed killing groveling traitors, he knew that Farrell would never stoop that low and loose all of his dignity to him. Unless of course, he was forced to plead for the life of his daughter; Lucius smiled at his own evilness.

"Go to Hell, Malfoy!" Farrell's scratchy voice spat out with venom.

"Oh, I will. Just not today." Lucius drawled sweetly

Alanna was still fighting against her human bonds that had been loosened enough for her not to loose consciousness. She tried to drown out MacNair's horrid sexual suggestions by thinking of an adequate escape plan, but when the topic switched to whips and chains she froze in horror.

'Maybe it would be best just to drink the Draught of Living Death,' she thought in despair, as her fingers brushed against the vial under her cloak. 'At least the potion would take me somewhere safe…what was that?' Her head jerked up at the sound of her father's voice. A powerful surge of relief flooded her body as she turned her head searching for her father's tall frame.

"Papa?" Her voice sounded like a pathetic whine, but she did not care. Her father would get them out of this mess, she was sure of it.

Farrell's head snapped toward the familiar sound, and grew rigid with anger. He looked back at Malfoy with an arrested expression of hate.

"Let her go Malfoy, she has nothing to do with this." He spat out in seething anger.

"Of course, she has nothing to do with this. Nobody even knew you had a daughter since about two hours ago." Lucius enjoyed his struggle to capture his composure. He turned on his heel to face the others.

"MacNair! Bring her to me." He commanded regally before turning back to Farrell's battered form.

"Farrell, you have not been out of the loop THAT long, have you? You remember what we do to the family of traitors, do you not? Well, if you have forgotten I will be more than happy to enlighten you, my old friend."

Alanna was dragged into the middle of the circle and positioned a few feet away from Lucius. She gasped at the many cuts and bruises her father was covered with and wanted nothing more than to fling herself into his arms to comfort him. She was abruptly stopped however by MacNair's heavy hand on her shoulder.

A smile curled Lucius' lips before he studied Farrell's reaction.

"What a sweet moment. I am so sorry that I will have to be the spoil sport of this little family reunion, but as you recall we are not here for a _social_ call." He turned toward the girl. "Now then, first we have to inflict some sort of pain, preferably affecting more than one person." He pivoted with lightning speed toward Alanna.

"_Crucio_!"

Alanna did not notice herself falling to the floor. All she could feel was the intense pain that permeated through her entire body. Her hands began to claw at her arms and chest as she writhed in pain on the sodden ground before them. She could hear an unearthly scream rip through the silence of the night, but was not exactly sure where it had come from. Then, suddenly, the pain seemed to subside, leaving behind a dull ache in her convulsing body.

Lucius observed Farrell's reaction with sinister satisfaction. Though he tried to be unresponsive at first, his calm and collected exterior began to crumble when Alanna began to scream in agony. A murmur of approval went through the ranks of Death Eaters as the first bout of Crucio always announced the official beginning of the revel.

"She is quite adorable when she screams, is she not?" Lucius purred softly. "I can not wait to get my hands on her soft…virginal…flesh. I guess I should be thanking you, Farrell, for keeping her safe for me all of these years. Her inexperience is just an added bonus, you know."

Lucius watched as a muscle began to tick in Farrell's jaw and his breathing turned ragged. Sweet Merlin, how invigorated he felt! He turned from Farrell to Melanie and pointed his wand at her still form.

"Before we continue, however, we need to invite your lovely wife to the party. You know how she just loves to be the center of attention." He smirked sardonically before muttering: "_Enervate_!"

Melanie was barely conscious before the rough hands of the Death Eaters lifted her to her feet. Lucius turned to her staring into her eyes while addressing the men surrounding her.

"Gentleman, why don't we show Mrs. Flint how . . . hospitable . . . we are?" Melanie's glassy stare was soon filled with horror as more than eight pairs of hands began to violate her body. Her screaming began instantly and fueled their lecherous intent.

Lucius turned back to face the former Death Eater challengingly.

"Well, I do not need to tell you what they are doing to your wife right now, correct?" His wand began to make small circles on the other mans chest. Farrell was quickly loosing his control.

"You sick bastard!" He hissed through clenched teeth.

"Temper, temper, tsk tsk tsk." Lucius turned back to where Alanna had been trying to collect her composure.

Though she could not see her mother, she could most definitely hear her screaming over her left shoulder, or it could have been her right her dazed mind playing tricks on her. Alanna was in turmoil between her own pain and her mother's suffering. MacNair had not moved from his post and held her wrist in a vice like grip, leaving his other hand free to rip the bodice of her robes. When she felt the icy air hit the skin of her exposed cleavage something inside of her seemed to get her out of the pain induced haze. With a fury she had never felt before she turned on MacNair and began to hit him with all of her might, striking anything and everything her fist, legs, and feet could make contact with.

"Do not touch me you, you insufferable brute!" She screamed at the top of her lungs, while ramming her knee strategically into the man's crotch.

Lucius watched her antics with pleasure, halting MacNair before he could knock Alanna unconscious with his meaty fists. "A fiery little minx, is she not?" He turned to Farrell and lifted his wand.

"But where ARE my manners." Lucius chortled with feigned shock. "_Imperio_!"

Farrell's eyes glazed over and he became very relaxed under the Unforgivable. Lucius gaze traveled back to a furious Alanna, who he thought looked rather fetching with her messy hair, dirt and tear streak face, fiery eyes, and heaving breasts still encased in her white-lace bra. MacNair was handling her roughly, but nothing like what she would feel while pinned under him, that was for sure. While his body screamed to get on with it his mind was still caught up in the entertainment this torture was creating.

"Your daughter needs to be disciplined, Farrell. I think a few slaps will do, do you not agree?" He smirked at his own genius and watched the man approach his daughter with steady unfaltering steps.

MacNair grinned like a fool when Farrell approached with grim determination etched on his features. He let go of Alanna's arms and stepped back from both of them, probably to get a better view of what was to happen next.

Alanna looked up into her father's cold eyes while her hands tried in vain to close the cleft of her gaping robes. 'He must be mad at me for having been caught. Gods, he looks so mad!'

"Father, I am sorry, I…" She did not even see the first blow being issued. All she could feel was an intense pain stinging the side of her head as her knees buckled and hit the ground. She looked up at her father in disbelief only to see his other fist coming straight at her, connecting with her jaw in a sickening crack. She did fall to the ground limply at this point. Never having been hit before in her life, she did not realize that it would have been best just to lie in the mud while the fists rained down on her body. Alanna, was not thinking like that though, as she moved in slow motion, slowly coming up off her knees into a standing position before her father. Her eyes watched in macabre fascination as he pulled back his right fist yet again and followed through, connecting with his new target; her stomach.

The pain was intense and throbbing she could feel it coursing in her vains, or was that her heartbeat pulsing in her ears? She was not quite sure, she mused, as her body connected once again with the ground.

Lucius had walked up to Farrell after the last well placed punch and had stopped him from continuing his forced corporal punishment. He motioned for MacNair to lift Alanna from the ground to face the other two men. Lucius stepped over to the dazed girl and ran the back of his hand over her bruised face, stopping only at her bleeding lip where he gingerly wiped at the sticky substance.

"Pity. What a waste of pureblood." He stated blandly before glancing down at Alanna's face. "I think a kiss is in order."

Alanna was about to spit in his evil face when he turned to her father and gave him a malicious smirk. Her eyes widened a bit. 'He could not possibly…'

"Farrell, time to make up with your daughter…with a kiss."

Alanna tried to resist again, even though her movements were slow and clumsy. Was there no end to these sick bastards' twisted games? Her father was coming closer and though she would never want to hurt him she would not let him kiss her like that! His face was only mere inches away.

"No, no, Papa please stop…" she pleaded brokenly not daring to look up at him, and pressing her fists against his upper body.

Suddenly all hell broke loose. Her father screamed in agony as his hands dug into her shoulders painfully. Before she could cry out in pain herself, his hands left her and quickly fumbled for the hidden wand pocket in her cloak. Upon contact he grasped it and whirled around to face Lucius and the other Death Eaters head on. Another howl of pain split the air from behind her and in an instant the offending hands that held here in place were removed from her person. She turned her body around in confusion as to who had released her and her eyes fell upon her beloved pet, as his many teeth sliced through the Death Eaters leg.

"Peaches." She breathed before she felt a strong hand clasp hers, pulling her from the grotesque scene. A few steps later Farrellturned Alanna to face him, placing her wand back into her right hand, and looking over his shoulder to make sure the others were still occupied with his anti-gravity charm. Satisfied that nobody followed them through the mist he turned back to Alanna with urging eyes.

"Alanna, darling, now is not the time to dawdle. You need to fly out of here right now." His right hand came up and cupped her swollen cheek where he had hit her. "I am so sorry that I did this to you." His voice broke.

"Fly! Fly faster than you have ever before, do you understand me?" His tone was harsh with emotion.

"What about you Papa?" She was not ready to leave her parents behind.

"Do not worry yourself about us. I need to go and help your mother." He straightened and watched her take out her Nimbus, enlarging it with her wand.

She quickly got on and kicked off hard from the ground, soaring a couple of feet in the air before turning and watching the scene below her. Her father gave her a small wave before turning to the fog hovering only a few feet behind him. She could not make out where her mother was, but most of the cloaked figures were caught up in the anti-gravity mist. The man named MacNair was still screaming as her faithful familiar ripped the flesh off of his leg with sickening precision.

The broom set into motion on its own volition forcing her to look the other way towards the looming rain clouds in the north; probably another charm of her fathers so she would not linger at the scene. Lightning illuminated the dark sky as she flew higher barely skimming the tops of the trees with her cloak. Alanna leaned forward on her broom and sped up faster and faster, until the rain hit her with a blinding force. She did not dare look back to see if anyone was following her, but kept on flying, hanging on for dear life as the nor'easter tried to shake her off her broom.

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Lucius was furious as he emerged from that damnable fog in time to watch Alanna make her escape by broom. He was pretty sure that Farrell was sending her to Dumbledore for 'safe keeping' and he had to do everything in his power to stop her if he wanted to live to see another day. The Dark Lord was not the forgiving sort. He turned and barked out commands to the Death Eaters NOT lost in the anti-gravity mist.

"Fly after her, you fools! Do everything in your power to get her off that damnable broom, and whatever you do; she can NOT enter past the Hogwarts wards. Do you understand me?" The men nodded dumbly before transfiguring various objects into sleek racing brooms and taking off into the night.

'Ten should be enough to take down one little girl.' He thought to himself.

"Now, it is time to take out the trash." He said to himself and walked back into the mist.

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All of Alanna's energies were spent trying to hold on to her bucking broom, while nature raged around her. A peal of thunder rocked the sky shaking her to the core and making her lean even further against her broom. She was not sure if she was being followed or not and thus chanced a quick glance behind her. Thankfully, Mother Nature illuminated the sky for her just as she looked back and what she saw made her gasp in horror. Only a few short yards behind her were at least six masked men on brooms, flying straight at her. Her first impulse was to speed her broom up even more, but when it began to shake precariously she returned to her original speed.

"Think Alanna!" she said to herself, as she maneuvered over the side of a mountain, dropping down vertically towards the treetops. Her fingers had turned cold and rigid around the handle, pain shooting up her arms as she pulled the broom from its feint. From the corner of her eye she could make out a green flash of light coming toward her at an alarming rate, and with a small hand-maneuver to her left she bypassed the hex and continued on at breakneck speed. Without warning the men, began to fling hex after hex at her fleeing form, in hopes that at least one of them would hit its mark; and hit it did.

Alanna felt a searing pain on her lower back and nearly tumbled off her Nimbus in surprise. During her short lapse of concentration however another curse hit her shoulder throwing her balance off and spinning her and her broom around in circles, before righting itself and setting its course due north once again. Alanna was fighting with her body to stay conscious while the unmistakable warmth of blood was trickling down her back. She had learned enough about hexes to know that she had been hit with a slicing charm that could only be healed with a complicated rejuvenation potion she had never ventured to brew. The stinging sensation that was engulfing her shoulder was naturally from a stinging hex meant to knock her off her broom to her death. She shivered as she looked down and realized how far that fall would have been.

Intense anger coursed through her body. 'They are trying to kill me,' she thought heatedly. 'Those bastards are trying to kill ME!' She could feel her pulse throbbing through her tired body giving her a boost of energy. Her fury intensified as another slicing hex hit the top of her right collarbone. Acting on pure instinct she grabbed her wand from her cloak and pointed it at herself before muttering: "_Protego Maximus_!" An instant later four curses hit her shielding charm in rapid succession recoiling at odd angles behind her.

With a quick turn of her torso she aimed her wand at a black figure, sending the first thing that came into her red-hazed mind.

"_Impedimenta_!"

The hex hit one of her pursuer's dead on and slowed him down considerably, until his broom stood motionless in mid-air fifty feet from the ground. The other Death Eaters quickly closed their ranks without looking back at their incapacitated comrade and proceeded to cast more hexes on her.

Before Alanna had the chance to cast another hex the sky illuminated once again followed immediately by a clap of thunder, which shook both sky and earth with a jarring energy. She thanked Merlin that she had not been hit when a burning figure zoomed by her screaming on the top of his lungs. With a smirk she realized that although she had not been hit, one of the men behind her had. Maybe this weather was not as bad as previously assumed.

Another hex attempted to penetrate her shielding charm and she turned quickly to make out its origin, only to be confronted with a white-masked man two feet away from her left flank. She knew what was going to happen before the hard shoulder hit the side of her body and braced herself for the impact, compensating her weight on her broom as her father had taught her mere weeks ago. As she was hit from one side another man was waiting on her right to pluck her from her broom, but she expertly evaded his outstretched arm by flying under him and sending a hex of her own toward his buttocks.

"_Laceratio_!" The hex hit its target as the man's skin was shredded into tiny bloody bits preventing him from sitting on his broom any longer. Alanna ducked her head as he veered to his right and straight into a tree with a resounding thump. She quickly looked around for the other masked cretin and was shocked to find him hovering a little above her with his wand pointing straight at her head. She knew that at this close proximity any hex would penetrate her shield and hit her right on her forehead.

Alanna defiantly smiled at the man in the darkness and plunged straight down into the peaks of the trees; the hex he threw after her barely missed her head and ignited a tree instead. The branches of the trees were once again tearing at her face and body as she counted down the seconds before pulling sharply on her broom. Once again she barely managed to miss the hard ground beneath and with a quick _Lumos_ she lit the tip of her broom in order to see in the darkness of the forest. Alanna could hear her hunters crashing through the treetops after her as she leaned down on the broom and shot into the thick underbrush. Another splintering crash informed her that someone had waited too long to pull out of their fall. As she began to dodge the first group of trees, s**he wiped the blood from her face with mild surprise; with everything else that had happened, she'd nearly forgotten the lacerations from the stinging branches. **The trees seemed to grow much closer together in this part of Scotland than the ones she practiced on earlier that day. She lost all sense of time as she continued to dodge tree after tree not wanting to give in to the mind numbing exhaustion her body craved. She had not heard any noise coming from behind her and knew that there were at least two more men hot on her trail. Keeping her gaze fixed on the trees in her path she pointed her wand behind herself, hoping that the spell would work.

"_Mobiliarbus_!"

A loud creaking sound filled the silence of the forest as a huge oak tree was pulled from its roots and placed right behind Alanna's broom.

The oak reconnected with the ground with a teeth-jarring _crunch_ that shook the earth, leaving great upheaval in its wake. A muffled scream greeted her efforts and she smiled grimly while dodging more trees. She had to get out of this forest somehow before her concentration waned and she too would hit a tree. With her last energy reserve she turned the wand on herself and muttered a mirror image reflection spell.

"_Speculum Imago_."

Alanna's broom just dodged another big oak tree, rounded the trunk and shot straight up through the thick foliage. A quick _nox_ extinguished the light on her broom as she emerged through the crown of the trees.

Below her a reflection of herself was turning due east, leading the remaining pursuers away from her. She did not have much time before the image would dissolve in thin air so she hovered over the trees only a few seconds to count the bright orbs of light following her manifestation. There were five of them left she discovered with a groan before turning and heading for the low-lying clouds in the sky.

While the clouds were a great camouflage their icy fog penetrated her already cold body like sharp knives. She had been exposed to so much physical pain today that by the state of things she knew she could not take much more of it. She flew a few hundred feet before stopping and catching her breath placing her numb fingers into the hidden pocket of her robes and retrieving the Fortifying Draught from its depths. She hastily uncorked the vial and drank the bitter liquid in one mouthful. Though the potion revitalized her body and mind her many cuts and bruises were not healed, however. She could feel a fresh surge of blood seeping through her many wounds as she wondered how long her body could last under such conditions. Not wanting to linger too long in one place, she re-corked the vial and placed it back into her pocket. Deciding that the cover of the clouds would be preferable to the openness that awaited her below she urged her broom on, hoping that Hogwarts castle was not much farther from her current location.

Two hours later the rain and storm had finally stopped, though the clouds still seemed to linger in the predawn sky. Alanna was holding on to her broom with one hand, shaking like a leaf from her sodden clothes and the loss of adrenaline. In the past hour she had become keenly aware of many pains in her body, starting with her broken jaw, blackened eye and bleeding wounds on her back and shoulders. Her ribs also ached whenever she would take too deep of a breath, sending her into a coughing fit that she tried to suppress. Her blurry vision was not only due to her swollen eye, but also to her constant rise in body temperature effectively 'burning out' the effects of the Fortifying Draught. She prayed that she would make it and told herself constantly that her destination is just around the next mountain. Alanna barely noticed that dawn had finally broken and that the cover of the clouds was slowly dissipating into a soft haze. Her broom was carrying her at a slower pace, one that she knew she would be able to maintain without falling off.

As the morning sun peeked over the tree tops on the horizon she could make out a few black specks coming at her from an angle at high speeds.

She knew she had been found out and quickly urged her Nimbus forward placing another shielding charm on herself. In a matter of minutes the five men were upon her, firing hexes and curses at her from all sides. With her last bit of magical energy she targeted one of them and bellowed:

"_Barrus_!" The _elephantitis_ hex hit him directly between his ribs in a flash of red sparks. Instantly his body convulsed on his broom and his legs began to swell up like great balloons, turning gray-purplish in colour. Alanna sped past him as his upper body engorged and turned colour as well, his broom breaking under the pressure of the added weight. He fell shortly after.

Alanna did not waste any more precious time especially since she could feel her shielding charm faltering around her, and flew as fast as she could towards the mountain ridge ahead of her. As she began to climb the ridge another curse flew past her, searing the delicate skin of her neck as she cried out in agony. Little white dots danced before her eyes as she barreled over the ridge and dropped down to the glassy blue lake that lay beyond. Alanna shook her head trying to force out the blackness that was threatening to overtake her as her feet made contact with the coldness of the lake. In surprise, she jerked her Nimbus up a few feet in order to keep from falling into the water and spotted the most glorious sight a few miles ahead of her.

There it was in its entire splendor; she was sure of it. A huge castle loomed before her like a beacon of hope with its many towers and turrets, and she could hardly contain her relief. The men behind her, unfortunately, saw this as their last chance to get rid of her and began firing curses at her in earnest. Alanna was able to dodge a couple before she was hit with a blood boiling curse that made her go rigid on her broom as fresh blood spurted from her wounds. The curse would take a good twenty minutes to run through her system before killing her, but that did not deter her from making it to her destination. She had promised her father as much after all.

While Alanna was struggling to keep her position on her broom she did not notice the changes in the lake below her. From the depths of the blue waters two huge tentacles shot through the air and caught two of the four remaining Death Eaters in mid flight. For the first time throughout their journey the other two turned around to look at their screaming fellows at arms and blanched in horror. The two tentacles were slowly retracting back into the cold depths taking the struggling Death Eaters with them. Now, there were only two of them left and while one was fleeing the scene in fright the other turned toward the girl that was about to pass through the Hogwarts wards. Being a faithful servant of the Dark Lord, he flew after her, positioning his wand and aiming straight at her head muttering an unknown curse that erupted from his wand in dark green sparks.

The castle was only a few hundred feet a way and she could feel the pull from its powerful wards. She could only hope that the Potions professor had a supply of antidote ready for the blood boiling curse because her time was running out. In about fifteen minutes this whole night from hell would have been for nothing and she would **not** die like that.

That was the last coherent thought Alanna would have, as the curse hit her from behind and propelled her through the castle wards. The broom did not slow down its descent as Alanna's body ruptured into many facets of pain, gripping her in a vice and rendering any movement impossible. She watched herself come closer and closer to the huge windows at the side of the castle, as if she were traveling in slow motion. The beating of her heart the only sound she could hear.

'This is the end then,' she thought as the front of her broom connected with the top of the stained glass window. Her body followed at an angle, shattering the glass into millions of fragments that seemed to either entrench themselves into her skin or fall in glittering shards to the floor. She was vaguely aware of hitting something cold and solid that scraped the side of her cheek before her mind finally gave itself over to dark oblivion.

**Authors Note:** She has FINALLY made it to Hogwarts, and now I need a serious break! Thank you, for reading and reviewing my story. If you have read THIS far, please leave me a review, you know you wanna! Thank you to my wonderful beta Mysticsong1978 who helped with the curse invention among many other things. Also, I would like to dedicate this chapter to my #1 reviewer LKLTB. Next up, Sevvy!


	6. The Potions Master

**Potions: What would a Girl Do without It?**

**By Slave4Severus**

**Disclaimer: I still do not own any of J.K.R. characters. Even though I wish I did.**

The only thing audible in the virtual darkness was the constant scratching of a feather quill flying over various stacks of parchment with deadly precision. A few droplets of red ink stained the French walnut desk placed at the center of the spacious circular room. A large silver cauldron was simmering softly off to the side and a dying fire was lit under a starkly decorated mantelpiece, above which a painting of Salazar Slytherin was perched. The main source of light in the room was the single candelabra placed mere inches from the inkwell on the desk. The scratching of the quill continued interrupted periodically by hissed mutterings from its darkly brooding owner.

"Stupid..." the quill began to viciously cross out a sentence on the parchment. "Bloody third years!" Another scathing complaint, before…

"Sweet Merlin! Worse than Longbottom…" The quill joined the offending piece of parchment on the 'dunderhead' pile, while Severus Snape snapped his eyes shut and began massaging his temples in consternation. He had been working in his laboratory for the past three hours and felt the beginnings of a tension headache creep up his already stiff neck. Being who he was he ignored the pain and shifted his concentration to the fumes coming from the cauldron.

'Heliotrope with a hint of verdant green.' He pushed himself out of his armchair and strode up to the cauldron assessing the bubbling liquid with a scrutinizing gaze. He quickly retrieved a clean ladle from his storage cabinet, and gracefully began to stir the potion in a counter clockwise motion.

'Three stirs to the left then two to the right. Consistency…satisfactory.' Careful not to breathe in too much of the noxious fumes, he leisurely wafted them towards his face sniffing them imperceptibly. 'Odor may be classified as…saccharine.' Satisfied with his conclusions he returned to his desk and retrieved his Journal from a desk drawer, dipped a fresh quill into a green inkwell, and quickly wrote down his assessments of the potion.

A few minutes later, he swept from his chair and walked over to the supply cupboard to retrieve the two final ingredients, essence of belladonna being the first. His long, tapered fingers then made contact with a bottle containing a milky substance that read 'African boomslang venom' in his scratchy scrawl. He looked at the bottle thoughtfully before turning and approaching the cauldron once again. He uncorked the belladonna and carefully weighed out seven and a half grams before adding it to the potion. The instant the element made contact the contents of the cauldron began to well up and double in volume, big bubbles surfacing and breaking with soft popping noises. The colour of the brew changed from a soft toffee to a vibrant azure hue with shimmering russet fumes. Grabbing another clean ladle he carefully stirred the welling potion until the belladonna had been evenly distributed, and then subdued the flames beneath the cauldron. He pulled out his silver pocket watch and quickly calculated the time it would take for the potion to cool enough before adding the boomslang venom.

"Thirty minutes," he muttered softly before glancing at his wizard watch conveniently encased in a Muggle contraption. The hour hand was pointing to a minuscule message that read 'Thirty-five minutes until completion', while the minute hand read 'Fifty minutes until the Dark Lord demands his potion.' With a flick of his wrist he closed the watch and returned it to the many folds of his black robes. A grim expression flashed across his features as he returned to his desk and picked up a second pile of parchments, bracing himself for another bout of idiocy that was seventh year potions essays.

He pulled the first roll from the pile and studied the name at the top right hand corner. Hermione Granger. He rolled his eyes and buried the parchment beneath the others; he hated to read her essays because the red ink hardly ever touched them. The only satisfaction he would get is to take off a couple of points for penmanship or spelling mistakes which were few and far between. He needed to vent some of his frustration and promptly picked up another parchment. Neville Longbottom. Alright, he did not need to vent THAT much and it too was returned beneath the pile. With a suffering sigh he pulled yet another roll, opened it, and smirked evilly at the name. Harry Potter.

'Yes, this will do nicely.' He thought with relish as he drew his quill as if it were his wand and dipped it leisurely into the red inkwell. Before he even began to read the essay he wrote at the top 'Potter, you turned your work in one minute after the others, that will be five points for tardiness.' He was feeling better already, he admitted with a smirk, and began to read.

Twenty minutes, three parchments, and a lot of red ink later he felt relaxed enough to add the final ingredient to his volatile potion. He walked over to where the bottle of venom was resting and retrieved a small dropper from the cabinet, carefully uncorking the bottle. He pinched out five drops of venom above the cauldron, each disappearing with a stinging hiss. The potion stopped bubbling immediately and turned to a golden shade of honey as it settled down a few inches under the lip of the cauldron.

"Not finished yet, Severus?" The voice that cut the silence wiped the small satisfied smile from his face as he slowly turned to face the painting above the mantle. With an arch of his eye brow and a neutral expression he faced Salazar Slytherin's painted image.

"Was I not explicit in my instructions to NOT be disturbed?" he spat impatiently as he turned back to his work and began bottling the potion into small vials.

"You only have six and a half minutes left until you will be summoned," Salazar said with matching venom as he paced his canvas with long strides.

"Of that I am quite aware," he hissed softly as he placed the last vial into a small wooden case, closing it firmly, and placing it under his right arm. Without another glance at the painting he walked to the door behind his desk and into his private chambers to retrieve hisDeath Eater cloak and mask from his wardrobe.

"You should not let him wait. Remember the last time it happened?" Salazar was eyeing him from a smaller painting placed strategically in Severus' bed chamber. Again, Severus did not acknowledge him; he was still sore about Salazar hanging here in the first place. He respected the founder; there was no doubt about that, but he hated having four paintings hanging around his private chambers at Headmaster Dumbledore's insistence. He could bloody well take care of himself! So, for the past three months he had to put up with the banter of the founder and his insufferable mollycoddling. Severus donned his cloak, hid his mask beneath the folds, and placed the miniature box with the vials into his pocket.

"Dumbledore requests that you floo him upon your return," the portrait commanded from yet another canvas in the study as Severus approached the hidden passage way located behind it.

He stopped before the painting and sneered at the older man who regarded him with veiled indifference. He wanted to tell him to keep his thoughts and concerns to himself!

Instead, he found himself merely replying with an indifferent, "Humph!"

He cursed himself for his placidness and strode into the passageway. It was not in his nature to be…civil, but for some reason he felt it was necessary to remain on good terms with the painting. He was the Head of Slytherin after all and he tried to convince himself that it was the cause for his tolerance. Salazar's likeness was also mounted in various hallways in the dungeons and he had been prompt on reporting any rule breaking the image himself could not subdue. Severus guessed he deserved a smidgeon of credit for that. Upon his return he would have to have another insufferably long talk with the Headmaster about his need for privacy; and if that would not work he would threaten to douse the paintings with an acidic substance. Severus smirked evilly at the satisfying thought.

As he stepped out of the shadows and into the night he inhaled the sweet fragrance of grass and rain. A quick glance into the dark sky told him that there would be more rain on its way as he walked across the perfectly manicured lawn into the cover of the Forbidden Forest. Once among the dark trees, he began exposing his left arm where the Dark Mark brandished his alabaster skin, feeling the Dark Lord's anticipation as his arm was began to sting uncomfortably. It was not an actual summoning, which leave him in fierce pain, but more of an 'I am thinking of you' stinging reminder.

Severus' face turned into a bland facade of indifference as he pulled out his white mask and donned it. The fingers of his right hand touched the dark mark and he concentrated his thoughts on the Dark Lord and apparated.

The second his feet connected with an unknown marble floor he scanned his surroundings to find the Dark Lord seated in an armchair stroking his pet snake. Severus walked before him, knelt down, bowed his head, and kissed the hem of his robes in subservient submission.

"Severus, rise and give me what I have been waiting for," Voldemort said softly, the 's's in his speech standing out a bit. Severus rose from his uncomfortable position and pulled out the small package of vials from his cloak. He quickly enlarged the mahogany box, opening it, and presenting its contents to the Dark Lord as his eyes discreetly searched the premises for any other Death Eaters. Thankfully, there were none, rendering a display of authority on Voldemort's part useless. If all went well, he could return to Hogwarts without having been exposed to an Unforgivable.

Voldemort studied the contents and lifted one of the ten vials from its velvety haven, bringing it up to the candle light that surrounded them. A twisted smile came across his lips.

"Tell me again Severus what this potion does to the drinker." He fairly hissed at his minion.

"The _Quirito-mortifer_ potion or screaming-death potion burns the viscera and other soft tissue within ten minutes of consumption, while the body's outward appearance seems to be unblemished." He quipped on command, knowing that the answer would please him. There were other poisons he could have created that could have killed instantly, but Voldemort always preferred agonizing and painful to quick deaths.

The Dark Lord eased out of his chair and began to circle him like a vulture as he stared at the potion with fascinated interest; stopping only to voice another question.

"Have you created an antidote as well, Severus?" His red eyes turned to slits.

'Trick question,' he thought weighing the consequences his answer would have.

"No, my Lord I have not created one yet." That of course was a blatant lie. He had about five vials of the antidote hidden in his chambers in case the potion was turned against him or an Order member. Admitting to having it could have made the Dark Lord suspicious of his motives, and thus decided to hide that fact from him.

"Good, Severus. I am pleased with your work," Voldemort said softly before replacing the vial and closing the lid of the box.

"Thank you, my Lord," Severus murmured, relinquishing the hold he had on the poison as it was taken from his grasp.

Voldemort turned and walked to a small table that was set up close to the roaring fireplace. A Persian rug and two green winged armchairs were sitting intimately before it. If it would not have been the Dark Lord's new premise he would have thought it quite cozy, actually.

A soft pop to his right pulled Severus out of his reverie as he turned to watch another Death Eater kneel on the marble floor, forcing the Dark Lord to turn hastily, staring at the figure cowering a few steps away with a frown clouding his serpent-like features. Severus knew he hated being interrupted without warning and watched the Dark Lord walk towards the new comer with determination. Voldemort quickly drew his wand and pointed it at the Death Eater muttering _Crucio_. The pained screams that followed belonged unmistakably to none other than Lucius Malfoy.

While Severus watched the scene unfold before him, he pierced Lucius with a calculating stare, taking in the disheveled appearance of the man writhing before the Dark Lord. His hair was a tangled mess spilling forth from his hood; his black robe was soggy and wet with an ample amount of mud clinging to its hem. His shoes did not fair any better. Severus would have expected this type of attire from McNair or even Goyle, but Lucius had always been meticulous about his appearance.

Voldemort ceased the curse and stared down at the panting figure.

"Lucius, remove your mask." His voice took on a soft lilt that could only be characterized as cold and unfeeling.

The blond man tried to catch his breath as he returned to a kneeling position carelessly taking off his mask and holding it in both hands.

"My Lord, I have come to inform you about this evening's festivities." His voice caught in the back of his throat as he was hit with another round of Crucio, his body convulsing spastically.

"Do not bore me with details!" Voldemort hissed.

"Of course, my Lord," Lucius panted. "The traitor had a secret."

Severus furrowed his brow behind the mask in consternation, as he regarded the blond man's attempts on righting himself once more. Which traitor was he talking about?

"What secret?" Voldemort commanded.

Lucius dared to look up at this point harnessing his fleeing energy before making his next statement. "There was a child."

Severus mind was working with fast precision. There had been a revel tonight that was certain and unfortunately he had not been privy to it. He had been stuck in his lab making that damnable potion! His brain tried to go through all of the ranks of the Death Eaters trying to figure out who it was they were discussing and none came to mind.

"Where is it now?" Voldemort had levitated Lucius up to eye level and spoke to him in barely more than a whisper.

Lucius' swallowed convulsively. "I do not kn…"

He never finished the sentence as Voldemort flung him across the room with a flick of his hand. Lucius crashed into the wall and crumbled to the floor with a soft thud. He then turned to Severus.

"Return to Hogwarts, Severus, and report any…unusual activities." His cold eyes returned to the pile of robes and hair that were Lucius.

"As you wish, my Lord." Severus bowed and apparated from the scene.

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Severus' solitary figure emerged from the shadows of the Dark Forest with strong, heavy strides and billowing robes that could not even be subdued by the driving sheets of rain. With an air of urgency he made his way up the massive stone steps that lead to the entrance of Hogwarts and flung open the double doors entering the deserted castle. He did not slow his stride as he veered to the left in the entrance hall and quickly descended into his domain; the magical doors closing softly behind his person. He strode into the dungeon, the sounds of his shoes echoing eerily from the stone walls as he entered the passageway leading to the entrance of his chambers. Before he could reach them, however, the pearly apparition of the Bloody Baron floated through the wall, and waited for Severus to approach.

"Good eve'n, Head of House." The Baron wheezed rustily.

"Good eve'n, Baron. What have you to report?" Severus, inquired, his tone clipped and impatient.

"During your absence there have been two nightmares in the second and third year boys' dormitories, four attempts from fifth and sixth years to sneak out of the dungeon, and one seventh year girl who has not yet slept in her own bed." He finished his report with a note of disapproval.

Severus arched a perfectly shaped black brow with indifference. "Who is the seventh year student?"

"Miss Parkinson." The Baron rattled with disdain.

Severus scowled at the ghost. He knew EXACTLY where that little tart had been spending most of her nights, and if Draco Malfoy were not so closely related to Lucius he would have probably put an end to the raging teenage hormones. The thought of any relation of Lucius' cavorting like animals, elicited pure, unadulterated disgust from the Professor.

"I will deal with the situation in the morning." He turned on his heel and strode the final steps to his chambers, muttering the password before the wall melted away; he did not wait to see the Baron glide through the passage to the upper levels of the castle

Severus walked to the hearth in his room, dropping the Death Eater mask carelessly to the floor, where it clattered before the flagstone of the fireplace. Next, he withdrew fromhis shoulders the heavy, black cloak and discarded it as well. He quickly faced to the fireplace and threw a pinch of floo powderonto the dying embers, which rekindled with a soft roar of high green flames.

"Headmaster."

The head of the elderly wizard revealed itself almost immediately.

"Severus, you are back. Step through, please."

Severus stepped into the licking flames and through to the fireplace on the other side facing Headmaster Dumbledore with a blank expression. He was surprised however to find himself in the pristine white confines of the hospital wing and not, as he thought, Dumbledore's office.

"Everything went well, I presume?" The Headmaster asked in hushed tones. Severus nodded curtly and glanced down the rows of empty hospital beds until his eyes lingered on a small form covered by a plethora of white blankets. He sneered with contempt. Potter. He must have had one of his infamous nightmares again.

'The little brat always knew how to milk a bad dream for all it was worth!' he thought viciously. Dumbledore slowly began to walk toward the infirmary'ssole patient, giving Severus a knowing look.

"Everything went according to plan, Headmaster, before we were abruptly interrupted by none other than Lucius Malfoy." Dumbledore gave him a startled look as he continued. Severus took a moment to savor this; it was rare one could catch Albus off guard. "Apparently there was a revel scheduled this evening that I was not informed about." A moment of pregnantsilence followed that statement, as the older wizard's eyes glanced back to the still figure beneath the covers.

"As you can see Severus, Harry has had another telepathic-dream with Voldemort shortly before you arrived here," he announced gravely.

"Did he see anything Headmaster?"

"He did mention a Death Eater gathering, but what he saw were isolated images of the actual course of events. I believe that Voldemort may have extracted Lucius' memories and the results must have displeased him." Dumbledore looked down on the peacefully sleeping youth.

His eyes followed those of the Headmaster and he sneered with contempt. Potter's face was flushed, probably from the horrendous mountain of blankets, and his forehead glistened with perspiration. He must have received the Dreamless Sleep draught a few minutes before Severus had entered the infirmary. The potions master squinted his eyes and focused on the boys scar. He was still contemplating on what Lucius had said to Voldemort about 'the child of a traitor,' and the statement's implications. It raised too many questions that his tired mind was not willing to process after hours of brewing combined with sleep deprivation. He subdued his impulse to massage his throbbing temples and instead glanced back at Dumbledore, who was watching him with hooded, all-knowing, eyes.

"Headmaster, I…," Severus fell silent at the sound of a door opening. Madam Pomfrey whisked inside, looking particularly vexed; her hair unkempt eyes red from sleep, which immediately focused on Severus' form with a calculating look. Professor Snape rolled his eyes and folded his arms defensively.

"Severus, take off your robes and sit on the bed." She did not stop as she passed the two professors on her way to the medicinal potion cabinet. Dumbledore watched her with amusement as he tried to suppress a girlish giggle at Professor Snape's scowling reaction.

"I do not have all night Professor, so please, do not make this harder on yourself," she quipped with a quick glance over her shoulder; Severus' face immediately twisted up in anger.

"Madam, will you _desist_ treating me like one of your charges! I am not in need of your attentions," he ground out flatly.

"Severus, with all the fuss you make you may as well be." Madam Pomfrey quickly returned with three different potion vials and began to swish her wand at his person.

Before the eager nurse could disrobe the Potions Master with her wand, Dumbledore held up his hand receiving both parties attention.

"Poppy, Severus has not sustained any injuries tonight, but he appreciates your concern." He watched the nurse mumble inaudibly under her breath while Severus growled with displeasure.

"Now, I will leave Harry in your capable hands, Poppy, and will bid both of you good night. I have to leave Hogwarts for a couple of days; pressing business at the ministry." He smiled kindly, and quietly left the infirmary.

Severus turned his glaring eyes on the nurse and with a sneer walked over to the fireplace and flooed back down to the dungeons. 'The nerve of the woman,' he ranted to himself as he stepped out of his fireplace and into his study. He strode over to a simple mahogany cabinet, past his vast bookshelves, and pulled out a bottle of Old Ogden's Firewhiskey, pouring a liberal amount into a crystal glass. The burning of the alcohol did not help his foul mood as he downed the contents of the glass in one swallow. He hoped that a few hours of much needed sleep would prepare him for questioning the Potter boy about his dream.

He was intent on finding out who this supposed traitor of Voldemort's could be, but it would have to wait until morning. He began unfastening the numerous buttons on his robes, picking up his discarded clothes from earlier and draping them over a nearby chair for the house elves to clean. With a stifled yawn he entered his bed chamber and walked over to the lush four poster bed, ridding himself of the rest of his clothing. He slipped under the cool satin covers and finally let his aching muscles relax as his mind slowly drifted into sleep.

He awoke, barely three hours later, at the crack of dawn. He got out of bed and began his usual morning routine. A quick shower, which included washing his hair even though he knew the greasy tresses always looked three days old, dressing in his every day robes, black, black , and...more black; he liked the pattern, and a pot of strong coffee to fully rouse his senses. After his second cup he decided it was safe enough to finish the rest of his marking before he would go up for some breakfast, and strode into his private lab to retrieve his work.

Precisely at 6:45, Professor Snape strode up the many stairs of the dungeon with his signature scowl in place. Not that there were many students loitering about this early in the morning, but one could always hope. As he walked past the moving staircases he could see a few tired looking students making their way down to the Great Hall as well. He sneered with disdain and hoped that his breakfast would not be disturbed with their idle chatter. With this in mind he reached the double doors and gave them a firm shove and they parted to admit him. With a vicious glare at any who dared to look up, he made his way forcefully and decisively towards the stairs to the teachers table, which was only occupied by Professor McGonagall. He gracefully took his seat and scowled some more before helping himself to some toast. As he took a swig of his pumpkin juice he grimaced with disdain at the sweet liquid sloshing in his mouth. It was decidedly too early for this type of 'nutrition' and he placed the goblet back on the table. His eyes scanned the occupants of the hall as he consumed his buttered piece of bread. The Hufflepuff table was totally deserted, while the Ravenclaws seemed to be early risers with at least two of every year being present. The Slytherins on the other hand also had a meager attendance. Those present, however, included Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and…Parkinson. Remembering her nocturnal activities he decided to have a little 'talk' with her before class. As his eyes roamed over to the Gryffindor table he could make out the tired features of Weasley and Granger, who ate their meal with mechanical precision. They were most likely gracing the hall with their early presence because of Potter; he sneered as he thought the _saviour's_ name.

With a quick wipe of his napkin he finished his breakfast and got up from the table, nodding curtly at his fellow professor, and then focusing his attention at his house's table. He was looking at the Parkinson chit willing her to look his way, but the girl was too enthralled with Malfoy to notice anything around her. Sweet Merlin, how he hated hormonal teenagers! He walked toward the far left side of the hall passing behind the Slytherin table with an annoyed expression etched on his features. He was not looking forward to this.

He never made it more than halfway down the hall, however, when he heard an unmistakable ringing in the distance.

'The wards have been penetrated!' he thought in alarm. Was this what the Dark Lord had meant by unusual activities? With a grim expression he quickly pulled his wand and pivoted on his heel, facing a surprised Deputy Headmistress, who was already striding purposefully toward him. They had to figure out quickly where the breach had occurred and find the trespasser before the school was infiltrated. He did not have time to dwell on the fact that the wards had **never** been violated before; at least not to his knowledge.

To any onlooker, Severus would appear rather relaxed and indifferent to the forthcoming events; it was an acquired skill, adopted from years spent playing the role of double agent. However, he was tense with anxiety as an explosion of glass erupted from one of the big bay windows of the room. Within seconds Severus had an extremely rigid shielding charm in place as a multitude of glass shards rained upon the screaming occupants of the hall. As he looked up at the candle enchanted ceiling he could make out a black cloaked figure on a broom hurling toward the stone wall to his left. His mind raced with the possibilities on whom the figure could be, as it hit the wall with brute force, shattering the broomstick.

"_Stupefy_!" His incantation hit the body in mid descent, lifted it up a few feet and sent it crashing onto an unoccupied part of the Slytherin house table with a sickening thud.

The Great Hall became absolutely quiet as they all stared at the limp body, whose identity was still hidden by the massive cloak and hood. Professor McGonagall had finally caught up with Severus as he approached the table with his wand still drawn, expecting some form of retaliation. He could smell the blood before he could see it as he reached for the hood of the cloak and yanked it back, revealing the form of…a girl?

Professor McGonagall gasped at the blood stained, bruised, and swollen face of the girl on the table. Severus quickly moved to find a pulse on her neck, which he grimly discovered was very faint and irregular. If she made it to the infirmary he would be surprised.

"_Mobilicorpus_," he said softly and levitated the body off the table, leaving behind a pool of her blood. Without a second glance he strode out of the hall en route to the hospital wing, with the bloody girl floating behind him.

'Why do these things keep on happening on **my** watch,' he thought darkly as he ascended the stairs two at a time.

**Authors Note: ** Hey everyone! Sorry, that I have not posted sooner, but unfortunately I have been pretty sick this week with a cold and a nasty fever. Also, my beta had her wisdom teeth extracted and has been on a painkiller high. So, if this chapter seemed ODD then that is probably why (more me than her of course). Thank you for all of your wonderful reviews! They are what keep me writing (even when I am sick)! Mysticsong1978 and I have created a yahoo group and are inviting you to join, where we will keep you up-to-date with our fan art, story updates, et cetera. We did this since prefers that chapters do not consist solely of author updates.

http:groups . yahoo . com / group / Severus-ItsWhatsForDinner

-- take the spaces out or visit my profile and click on the link.


	7. The GirlCrasher

**Potions: What would a Girl Do without It?**

**By Slave4Severus**

**Disclaimer: I still do not own any of J.K.R. characters. Even though I wish I did. **

"…Professor Snape…"

"..look…with the professor…"

"..what's that…."

"I think…blood!"

"So much blood!"

He could hear the shocked gasps of the students as he hurried up the moving staircases en route to the hospital wing. Why on earth he had to pass every bloody student was still a mystery to him. It seemed that all three houses, other than Slytherin, went to breakfast at the same time every morning, forcing him to dodge his pupils on the stairs. He had nearly forgotten that the Hufflepuff common room lay only a few feet from the entrance of the infirmary, but was sorely reminded as he rounded a corner and passed the painting of a Scotsman with his _loyal_ dog; which promptly opened and expelled at least ten sodding students that were coming straight for him and his …charge. Before any of the imbeciles could create a scene he chose his coldest voice and darkest sneer. "Watch it," he hissed menacingly as he strode past, leaving the shocked students in his wake. Even though he was used to creating a certain amount of unease, he knew that the girl floating behind him was the reason for most of the alarmed mutterings. He could not get to the infirmary fast enough. With that in mind he turned his head to the crush of students.

"Miss Bones, would you please inform Madam Pomfrey of our arrival." He watched the seventh year Hufflepuff run ahead of him at top speed, forgetting to utter her usual 'Yes, Professor Snape,' he thought darkly. Without slowing his stride he called over his shoulder. "Mr. Cauldwell, please notify Mr. Filch about his messy floors." The fourth year student called a breathless, "yes, Professor Snape" before sprinting the opposite direction, trying not to slip on the small puddles of blood as he went.

Severus rounded the last corner before the white doors of the hospital wing came into view, his robes whipping about him adding to his sinister look. The double doors opened before he could reach them revealing a panting Miss Bones and a worried looking Madam as he strode past them levitating his load to the nearest hospital bed.

"Severus, place her here, please." Madam Pomfrey hurried past him and further down the ward, gesturing towards a bed closest to the medicinal potion cabinet, and he silently complied. With a swish of his wand he levitated the girl onto the crisply starched white sheets, as the nurse pulled the privacy curtains around the bed and promptly turned to face her new charge with her wand at the ready.

Severus stood at the foot of the bed eyeing the intruder with a cold and calculating stare. There really was a copious amount of blood covering the girl's, or young woman's, face and clothed body. He guessed her age no more than twenty, but could not be certain with the heavy bruising her face had sustained. As with most of her other features, her hair was an unidentifiable color, but he suspected it must be a shade of brown. He was sure she must have been sent by the Dark Lord, but the reason still eluded him. She could be a test, sent by Voldemort, to see if he really had NOT made the antidote to the poison. Severus disregarded that thought just as fast, however. Voldemort was not the flashy sort, and would not have sent the girl careening into Hogwarts' Great Hall if he had. Still, something did not sit right with him, and it was not the piece of toast from this morning.

Madam Pomfrey only took thirty seconds to finish her preliminary examination and gasped in shocked. In all of her years of nursing she had never seen so many extensive injuries on a patient who was still alive. 'Well, barely alive,' she quipped to herself. Without losing another second she muttered a few incantations and placed the girl into a form of stasis, preventing her from dieing before she could administer the required potions to stabilize her. With a quick breath she turned and looked at the Potions Master who still stood at the foot of the bed with an unreadable expression.

"Severus, this child has been hit with a fair amount of curses_; the blood boiling curse being one of them_." She put great emphasis on the last sentence, knowing that the Professor was the only one who could make the complex potion, if he did not already have the antidote in his private stores.

"That is not all." She placed her hand on the side of the girl's head and rolled it over to the right, exposing the left side of her neck.

Severus could not help but gasp at the faint outline of a very familiar curse scar, and involuntarily stepped toward the side of the bed for a closer inspection. There it was, much fainter than the one Harry Potter had on his forehead, but never the less it was a small lightning bolt scar two inches below her left ear. His eyes narrowed in suspicion and his lips tightened with resolve. This person was not a benign girl, but someone sent here with a purpose. What that purpose was, however, had to be extracted from her. A malicious smile curved his lips. He would get it out of her if it was the last thing he would do.

Madam Pomfrey watched the Professor assess the girls scar and then straighten his spine rigidly. She did not know what was going on in this insufferable man's mind, but it was probably something she would not approve of. With that in mind she transfigured the medical report onto a piece of parchment and began to read off all the different potions she would require.

His eyes never left the faintly breathing body as he mentally registered all the potions Poppy would need to cure her. 'Blood Replenishing Draught, well with all the blood the chit has lost I will probably have to brew a whole new batch…Wound Cleaning Potion, I have a couple of extra vials of that in the store room…Burn-Healing Paste? I just gave her five jars of the stuff!...Blood-Cooling Potion, there is one vial left, how lucky,' he sneered at the last request, still staring at the girl as Poppy put away the parchment and began to undress her charge.

Without looking over her shoulder Poppy's stern voice pulled Severus out of his thoughts. "Today would be nice, Severus."

"Madam Pomfrey, I do not believe that this intruder should be left alone…"

"Severus, this my domain and you would do best to listen to me here. I will only say this once, so pay close attention. As long as this child is in my care I will not have an over-grown keeper watch my and her every move, is that perfectly understood. Furthermore, I would like to preserve some of the girl's modesty, if you do not mind." She emphasized her little speech by turning back and unclasping the few buttons left on the front of the tattered robes, revealing the outline of a lacy bra.

Severus turned abruptly, in anger and embarrassment. With a scowl that could kill he strode down the isle toward the infirmary doors, wishing he would encounter a few students to deduct points from. Oh, yes, he was in a very bad mood.

Poppy heard his heavy footfalls leave the infirmary and sighed in relief. Now that she gave him a task to focus on she could put all of her energies toward cleaning this child up. She quickly finished undressing the limp body, noting every cut and bruise and cataloging them with her wand before uttering a cleansing spell, closely followed by a warming spell. Covering the clammy body up with three heavy blankets, the nurse turned and walked to the potion cabinet to retrieve the last three bottles of Blood-Replenishing Draught and the last jar of Burn-Healing Paste, placing them both on the small night stand flanking the right side of the bed. Taking out her wand, she began healing the girl's broken bones, bruising, and curse wounds returning her outer body to a state of normalcy. After about ten minutes of extracting glass shards and rubbing the paste on her hex burns, the doors of the infirmary opened themselves once more.

Returning the blankets over her charges body, Madam Pomfrey turned around the privacy screen to watch Professor Snape approach once more, steeling herself for another bout of verbal sparring.

Severus returned to the infirmary with five vials of requested potion firmly in his grasp, his face a cool facade of indifference. When he reached the much shorter nurse he leaned down bringing his face close to hers, barely speaking above a whisper.

"Now, you listen to me Madam. You will never speak to me that way again, is that _perfectly_ understood? I have 'disciplined' others who have dared less. Furthermore, if I suspect that someone or something is a threat to this school I will make sure that the threat is contained. Do we understand each other?" He arched one of his black brows in challenge, obsidian eyes flashing coldly.

"Professor Snape, you try a Saint's patience!" With a sigh Madam Pomfrey plucked the bottles from his grasp.

"Classes start in a few minutes. Alert me immediately if the chit comes around," he said coldly before once again gliding out of the infirmary.

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He was slowly surfacing from a swirling pool of warm darkness. In the distance he could make out a few glittering sparks of light and floated towards them. He knew what would happen next, having been here before. The glittering light became brighter and brighter until finally his heavy eyelids opened to greet another day.

Merlin, his head hurt!

He closed his eyes again as a soft groan passed his chapped lips. He tried to lie as still as possible, willing the agonizing sensation to dissipate with every breath he took. As he lay there the memories of the previous night came back to him. He had another one of those pain inducing, scar throbbing nightmares, courtesy à la Voldemort. Images were flying through his head that did not make any sense to him. There was a huge mansion that lay dark and foreboding before him; another of a girl, about his age, sitting at a piano; the same girl, clinging to someone's black cloak. He tried to block out the images, but each time more would surface. A Death Eater holding the girl while ripping at the front of her robes; a man bruised and bloodied being killed by a Death Eater.

Harry opened his eyes again and shook his aching head to rid himself of the memories. Voldemort had been more than furious last night for whatever reason. Harry knew that something did not go as planned and that more than one person would suffer for it. He wondered if Professor Snape had been one of those Death Eaters he had seen?

"…if the chit comes around."

'Speak of the devil,' Harry thought as his eyes tried to focus on his exiting Potions professor without the use of his glasses. Obviously not seeing very much, Harry felt for his glasses on the little nightstand next to his bed and put them on. As the world came into focus he watched his professor stride out of the infirmary with his signature billowing robes. With a small shrug, Harry slowly got out of bed and changed into some clothes that had been left for him. While he was fastening his belt he could hear Madam Pomfrey bustling about in the infirmary, and he hoped that he would pass the morning 'examination' so he could go up to Gryffindor tower for a shower and his books. He sighed heavily and running his hand through his messy hair, he walked around his privacy screen to face the school nurse.

After a moment of scanning the ward he found her attending to a patient at the very end. Harry smirked slightly and shook his head as he walked toward her. 'She's probably patching up Neville again,' he thought with a small grin. The poor bloke seemed to be very accident prone. Without another thought he rounded the corner of the privacy screen and stood rooted to the floor. There, on the bed was the girl of his dreams.

Well, the girl of his nightmares, really.

"Mr. Potter, there is a reason why I put up these screens!" she said in a clipped tone, while pouring the purple Wound-Cleaning potion on the poor girls head. Harry winced at the thought of the stinging solution, reminding him of his own pain.

"I apologize, Madam Pomfrey, but I wanted to check in with you before I left for my morning classes." His eyes roamed over the girl in the bed. She looked deathly pale and her body was beginning to shiver even though she was covered with a few blankets.

"Yes, Mr. Potter you may go, now if you do not mind I have to see to this patient." The patient in question chose that moment to violently convulse on her bed. Madam Pomfrey immediately sat beside her and placed her hands on the girl's upper arms, holding her firmly in place.

"Mr. Potter, would you mind helping me hold her down?" The nurse ground out through clenched teeth. Harry did not waste any time and came around the other side of the bed, putting his hands right above Madam Pomfrey's and applying pressure to the girl's upper body.

"Will you be able to hold her on your own? I need to get another potion to stop the spasms."

Harry nodded as he concentrated on keeping the girl on the bed instead of on the floor, flopping like a fish. His forehead began to break out in sweat by the strain as he looked down at the face two feet away. Her eyes were closed and her lips were a chapped raspberry color, her breath was coming out in short gasps, while her skin rivaled the color of Professor Snape's. His eyes roamed a little lower and stopped at the side of her neck, where a small scar, similar to his own stood crimson against its alabaster canvas.

Harry was shocked, to say the least when he felt that familiar prickle on his forehead. As she was writhing beneath his grasp, Harry's breath became more labored until he too was panting with pain, closing his eyes and steeling himself against it. A fresh wave of images started flooding his mind and Harry could do nothing to stop the sensory overload. He could see Lucius Malfoy looking down on him smirking viciously; in another he was racing through a forest dodging trees; he could see himself sending numerous hexes at various Death Eaters; he was flying through a thick, icy fog without any visibility; and finally in rapid succession he saw and felt the pain of every single hex that this girl had endured, ending with a blinding hit to the back of her head. He forcefully opened his eyes, hardly noticing Madam Pomfrey pouring a coffee colored liquid down the girl's throat, or her spasms finally receding to small tremors. All he could do was stare at the person who was creating the stabbing pain in his head, the rushing sound in his ears, and the need to hold on to her for dear life.

He finally broke contact when Madam Pomfrey forcefully pried his hands from the girl's arms. Harry stumbled backward a few steps, while trying to control his ragged breathing.

'What had just happened here?' he thought, as he rubbed his scar and forced himself to look at the nurse.

Madam Pomfrey was also shaken at what she had seen and hastily retrieved her wand to give Harry a quick once over. Without a word she walked to her potion cabinet and retrieved two vials from her stores, uncorking them as she returned to his side.

"This one is a simple headache cure." She watched him gulp down the contents. "The second is a Pepper-up Potion." He took that one too without a word and let the liquids do their magic while they swirled through his veins and alleviated most of his agony.

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey." He sighed with relief, before adding, "What happened?"

"That is a very good question Mr. Potter, which I do not have the answer to. I will discuss what I have seen with Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape as soon as possible," she informed him, returning to her patient's bedside.

Harry was already in deep thought, processing the new images churning in his mind. He really needed to talk to Ron and Hermione about this! He glanced back at the girl, now lying peacefully once again on her cot.

'Who are you?' He thought, while Madam Pomfrey, for the first time ever tried to usher him OUT of the infirmary.

"If you have any more adverse reactions do not hesitate to see me, Mr. Potter."

He only nodded and began walking toward the double doors. 'I have got to talk to Ron and Hermione,' with that in mind he set out for Gryffindor tower.

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Before the hour struck twelve the whole school knew about the 'girl-crasher.' Hermione rolled her eyes in disgust as she passed Draco Malfoy for the second time that morning showing off some bogus scars to the fifth and sixth year Slytherin girls.

"You see this scar? That was from a rogue piece of glass that sliced right through to the bone. I have about three more of those on my person, but unfortunately I can't show you those right now…"

Hermione was disgusted as she watched Draco wiggle his eye brows suggestively and the girls beginning to fawn all over him. 'Honestly, even Slytherin's should have more taste!' She passed the scene as quickly as she could and rounded the corner, heading toward a double period of Transfiguration, when she saw Seamus and Dean reenact Professor Shape's performance this morning. Or at least she assumed that's what was going on because Seamus' face was contorted in a bad imitation of the professor's standard sneer, while he waved his wand around in big, arching circles reminiscent of Snape's dueling experience with Lockhart before finally 'striking' Dean with the hex.

Dean followed up with some dramatics of his own, stumbling back a few paces and screeching in a high pitched voice, "You shot me! You stupid git!" before promptly 'dying' in front of the majority of the fourth and fifth year Gryffindor boys. Hermione strode past the scene and gave the boys her fiercest glare, scattering the younger ones in an instant from the Head Girl's wrath. Seamus and Dean just shrugged and gave her a lopsided grin which she studiously ignored.

She finally reached the classroom with fifteen minutes to spare and settled herself in her usual spot two rows from the front. She would have sat in the first row, but Ron had complained that he did not want to 'smell what McGonagall had for breakfast' as he so eloquently put it. She rummaged through her overflowing rucksack and pulled out her textbook, _Guide to Advanced Transfiguration_, for a quick review of the chapters they would be covering in class. Within moments she was lost within its pages.

_In order for an inanimate object to receive the characteristics of a living organism the following wrist movement needs to be executed:_

_Keep the your casting arm at a _"Did you see her face?" _right angle while the wrist is loose and springy_ "What a hideous nose she had!" _making sure that the wand flows in a counterclockwise figure eight position_ "If I looked that horrible I would have WILLINGLY thrown myself through the window."

Hermione sighed loudly as the gossip-mongrels of Hogwarts, Padma, Pavarti, and Lavender sat a few seats behind her. She closed her book with more force than necessary and began massaging her aching temples. She wished everyone would just stop talking about this morning and move on with their lives. Thankfully, Ron and Harry entered the class, with two minutes to spare, and took their seats close to hers. While they both retrieved their books, Hermione cast an inquisitive look at Harry. He seemed paler than usual, with dark rings under his eyes, and she could have sworn she saw his hand shaking while retrieving his quill. She absolutely hated it when he had a nightmare; he was not the only one that suffered.

"Harry, are you alright?" She finally voiced her concern. Harry looked up at her as if he had been deep in thought and nodded. Before he could say any more the door opened and Professor McGonagall strode into the room.

"We need to talk at lunch," he whispered hastily, as they turned their books to page 268.

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Two hours later everyone clamored out of the stuffy classroom and headed down to the Great Hall, which had been cleaned of glass and debris. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat a few feet away from everyone on the very end of the long benches, leaning over their plates in deep conversation. Harry told them everything that he had dreamed the night before, awakening in the hospital wing, and his encounter with the girl baring his scar. Between mouthfuls Ron told his version of the breaking of the wards and the girl crashing through the window, shattering a perfectly good Nimbus. He emphasized on her hitting the wall by taking a forkful of mashed potatoes and catapulting it over the table, where it hit the floor with a soft _splat_. Hermione was oddly quiet during their conversation and finally rolled her eyes at Ron's interpretation of 'the crash'.

"Well, after Care of Magical Creatures I will go to the library and look up curses and curse scars in the restricted section," she said thoughtfully. As Head Girl she was allowed access to virtually all sources of information the castle had to offer and was determined to make full use of them all. "Maybe that should tell us something about the visions you were having while holding her down."

Harry nodded in agreement. "Ron and I will go talk to Professor Krieger, perhaps he could tell us something helpful." Their new DADA professor was an enthusiastic version of Remus Lupin, who had come highly recommended by the former professor.

Harry's shaky hand reached for his glass of pumpkin juice and he downed its contents in four long swills before refilling his glass; he had been parched all morning. Before he could fill his glass a third time, however, Hermione urged them to finish up and follow her to class. With a frustrated sigh he got up from the table and stretched his aching muscles. God, he felt as if he had been hit with a ton of bricks!

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He must be taking this whole situation fairly well, he thought to himself after tallying up the lost house points of his three rival houses. 'Only 300,' he smirked to himself, jarring the last of the Burn-Relief paste that he had scraped from the bottom of his small pewter cauldron. He had not received more requests for potions from Poppy since this morning and was anxious to get back to the hospital wing to begin the interrogating the girl. A small bottle of Veritaserum was already waiting in his waistcoat pocket, as he shrank the paste and placed it alongside the vial. With purposeful strides he exited his classroom and emerged from the dungeons, scattering any pupils who had the misfortune of stepping in his path.

Within minutes he rounded the last corner to the infirmary and involuntarily slowed his stride in surprise. In front of the white double doors were at least ten students from various houses waiting to be admitted by a highly agitated Madam Pomfrey. Severus put his scowl in place and glared poignantly, as the 'sea' of students parted to admit him into the infirmary.

"Mr. Creevy, I have been at Hogwarts long enough to spot _Yellow-dotted Mountain Fever_, and you do not have it. I would suggest you go back to your dormitory and take a shower to wash this mess from your skin. And Mr. Zabinni, you may go to the dungeon as well, that little scratch of yours is not even big enough to warrant a healing spell." Madam Pomfrey looked sternly at the rest of the students there before her eyes met the obsidian gaze of the Potions Professor. Before he reached her he spun around and fixed his pupils with a penetrating stare. His voice was barely above a whisper, but nobody had to strain to hear him.

"Now, the only way for any of you to get through these doors is if you have been stranded at Death's door. As these are not the dungeons I doubt that has happened." A cold smirk graced his thin lips. "If any of you, or your little friends, dare to interrupt Madam Pomfrey with paltry aches or pains, more serious measures will be taken." He looked at the pale faces as he lifted a brow in sardonic emphasis. "Well then, why are you all still standing here?"

He watched in veiled amusement how the 'lame' became a flurry of activity trying to get away as fast as they could. Once the hallway was deserted again he turned around and faced the nurse, who stared at him in awe and gratitude. He ignored her and stepped through the double doors, Madam Pomfrey following him on his heels.

As they both entered the hearth flared up with green flames and Professor McGonagall stepped out, striding purposely toward the two.

"Has there been any change, Poppy?" She looked questioningly at the nurse before acknowledging Professor Snape with a short nod.

"The child has been stabilized." Madam Pomfrey stopped and looked gravely over her shoulder at the privacy screen shielding the girl from view, "but she has been through more than any of us could imagine." With a flick of her wrist she produced the parchment with her patient's medical summary and handed it to Professor McGonagall, who in turn gasped in shock before she had read a third of its contents.

As the two witches softly discussed the girl's ailments, Professor Snape silently made his way toward her hospital bed. With a grim expression he walked around the privacy screen and stared at the bed's occupant. She was covered with a minimum of three blankets that had been tightly charmed in place under her shoulders down, making any type of movement on her part virtually impossible. Her head was resting on a big, white, fluffy pillow as his eyes roamed over her features with calculating scrutiny, really seeing her for the first time. Her face really had been swollen quite a bit he thought as he took note of the small chin, full lips, and high cheek bones framed by a heart-shaped face. There was a small spattering of freckles on her nose, but those were the only flaws that marred her delicate skin. A few tresses of her auburn hair clung wetly to her flushed face and neck, mingling with the small beads of sweat that covered her skin. Her breathing was coming in short little pants from barely parted lips.

Severus frowned as he turned and walked toward the Medicinal Potion Cabinet to retrieve a fever reducing potion from its confines. He was disgusted with the nurse for not having caught the fever before now, and turned once again to the girl upon retrieving the fuchsia vial. Before he could even uncork the bloody thing he was attached by the nurse herself, who seemed to have more characteristics of a banshee than a caretaker.

"Professor Snape, what in Merlin's name do you think you are doing?" Madam Pomfrey stood before him, hands on her hips, and very furious.

The professor arched his brow and looked at her. "It would seem obvious, would it not?"

Professor McGonagall put a hand on the seething nurse's shoulder to calm her down a bit before giving the Potions Master a pointed look.

"Poppy, I think Severus only wanted to help." She said calmly, still looking at him.

"Well," the nurse huffed in outrage, "if he would have even glanced at the report I have filled out he would have known that the child can NOT have any more potions. Her body has been treated with too many already; others could give her adverse reactions." She crossed her arms before her heaving bosom and gave him an icy stare.

"Then what, pray tell, do you suggest, Madam." His voice was low and menacing as he looked down his considerable nose at the offending woman.

Madam Pomfrey turned and walked to a vacant bed close by and transfigured it into a big, white, porcelain bath tub. A couple more muttered words and it was filled half-way with water. She turned and looked at the confused professors.

"We will have to lower her temperature the old fashioned way."

"Do quit speaking in riddles woman! What is the old fashioned way?" Severus was beginning to loose his patience.

Madam Pomfrey did not answer him, but summoned a house elf to fetch her some ice from the kitchens.

"Poppy, you do not mean to place the girl in the bathtub, do you?" Professor McGonagall seemed a bit shocked herself at that barbaric notion.

"Yes, Minerva, there is no other way." She sighed heavily and floated the ice cubes into the tub upon the elf's return.

"Well, then I shall levitate her into the water." Professor McGonagall was walking to the side of the girl's bed with purpose.

"No! We can not risk it. She has been hit with too many curses that I am afraid that any more spells placed upon her could deplete her of the little magic she has left in her. We have to do this manually." Both women stared at each other for a few seconds before they both turned their eyes upon Severus.

He groaned silently. 'Damn it all to hell!"

His spine straightened and his balled fists met his hips, as he leaned over Madame Pomfrey dangerously. "I refuse." His voice rumbled menacingly through his chest as the answer escaped his clenched teeth.

The nurse blinked once…then twice. "Severus, you are not scared of a little water, are you?"

The infuriating woman actually had the gall to call him a coward! "No, I am not you silly woman! I did not come here however to play nursemaid to the chit. I did come here however for a necessary interrogation to find out who sent her," he hissed with a look of pure venom.

Madam Pomfrey had heard enough of the insufferable professor and stepped closer to his person, looking him straight in the eyes. "There will be no interrogation any time soon Professor Snape. This girl is in need of our help and who do you think you are to refuse her! Will it not go through your thick skull that there will not BE an interrogation if we do not lower her fever? For Merlin's sake, her organs and cooking away as we speak!" Her nose was precariously close to his sternum as she looked up into his expressionless face.

"Severus, please. She is too heavy for either of us to carry to the tub." Professor McGonagall tried to placate him with her stern voice.

Before either woman could appeal to his lacking sense of decency he began unbuttoning the outer layer of his flowing robes. Madam Pomfrey seeing that she had won the upper hand finally removed herself from his personal space and walked over to the bed of the fevered girl. He quickly removed a few layers of garments until he was clad only in his black trousers and white linen shirt, rolling up the sleeves half way up his forearm. Without further ado he marched up to the side of the bed and pushed the nurse out of the way, flinging the bed covers aside and scooping the girl, clad only in a white infirmary nightgown, up into his arms. Her head lolled to the side and rested right below the hollow of his throat and he could feel the intense heat radiating from her body. He turned and marched over to the tub looking at the small ice cubes glistening in the no doubt frigid water.

"Now Severus, you need to place her in gently, we do not want her heart to stop beating from the shock." Madam Pomfrey instructed from behind him. He rolled his eyes. Did she think he was just going to drop the girl into the water?

"And Severus, be prepared for her to struggle a little." With the nurse's last remark Severus turned to pin her with a frosty glare, before focusing all of his attention to the task at hand. He shifted the dead weight in his arms a little before he kneeled down beside the claw footed bathtub. She did not weigh that much, but lowering her into the water gently, however, would not be the easiest task he had ever managed. He leaned over the bathtub and gritted his teeth in anticipation of her hitting the icy water, bum first.

There was no reaction from the girl until her body was about waist deep in the icy liquid. He could hear a soft moan in his left ear as he watched her feet make contact with the water and promptly turned to face her. Her head was nestled in the crook of his arm and he watched in morbid fascination as her eyes fluttered opened and pierced him with a heavy lidded, glassy gaze. Her breathing was labored as she stared at him but not really seeing who was before her. He held her there, suspended in the icy grip of the bath water before lowering her further down. As the water hit her abdomen and her chest she began to struggle in earnest thrashing harshly covering her entire body, and his for that matter, in the cold liquid.

Her eyes were shut again and she tried to fight his hands with everything she had to give, moaning and whimpering in pain. Her sodden tresses clung to her face and shoulders washing off any traces of sweat and replacing them with icy droplets. He was astounded by the fire this girl seemed to possess and the strength in her hands that had turned into little claws of desperation, ripping at his wet shirt. He could hardly feel the cold penetrating his skin when he caught both of her hands on his chest confining them in one of his and lowering them into the water. Her eyes flew open and she inhaled noisily at her body's discomfort of being totally submerged in the bathtub. Her eyes found his and he thought he saw a spark of recognition, but before he could think twice about it she spoke her first words in a barely audible whisper. His brows furrowed when he realized what she had said exactly before the black oblivion claimed her once more.

"Is this hell?"

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**Author's Note:** There you have it! I wrote 80 of this while I was still sick, but I am feeling much better now. Thank you for reading and reviewing, it's the best part of the whole posting process! _Eva Moon_—I left a note to you on our yahoo group if you would like to go and read it, just click on the homepage link on my profile.

To all my other reviewers THANK YOU! This story would not be here if it weren't for you!


	8. Sweet Dreams are made of this

Potions: What would a Girl Do without It?

By Slave4Severus

Disclaimer: I still do not own any of J.K.R. characters. Even though I wish I did.

**Author's Note**: I had to remove this chapter earlier due to 'technical' difficulties (I think Peeves has gotten into my computer and posted the beta-ed, non corrected version. I am trying hard to punish him for this.) Sorry for any confusion!

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"So, what does she look like, mate?" Ron was walking next to him with his fists crammed in his pockets, grinning roguishly at a passing group of giggling sixth year Ravenclaw girls.

"How do you think she looks, Ron?" Harry watched his best friend shrug in response as they made their way up the many stairs to the third floor DADA classroom. "Remember the way you looked when you were puking up slugs second year?"

Ron cringed at the thought. "Yeah, what of it?"

"Well, she looks about ten times worse than you did, not including her sweat-drenched body and Snape-like skin tone." He was exasperated that Ron could think about the girl's looks at a time like this.

"Urgh! A barker then!" Ron shuddered with disgust. Harry rolled his eyes as he shot his friend baleful look. Since the beginning of term Ron had been very preoccupied with the fairer sex and had dated at least three different girls, which he knew of anyhow, since then. Currently, he was talking up Susan Bones, a rather curvy seventh year Hufflepuff, who was slowly warming up to his advances. Harry really did not think much on his best friend's love life, but became thoroughly annoyed when he would either try to set him up with someone, or treat women as if looks were the only thing of importance. He would not mention to him that the girl in the hospital wing was really not that bad looking, or he would be pestered into getting out his invisibility cloak in order to satisfy Ron's curiosity.

As the last staircase moved to the third floor hallway, Harry sighed with fatigue. He just couldn't snap out of it today; still feeling faint and even dizzy at times, not to mention the horrible thirst that left his mouth and throat dry and scratchy. He cleared his throat involuntarily and brushed his tongue over his chapped lips. He hoped the professor could tell them more about what he was experiencing.

Ron eyed his friend warily while they made their way through the deserted hallway. He did not like one bit how pale and exhausted Harry seemed all day and had even noticed him having troubles casting simple spells in Transfiguration earlier. He wrinkled his forehead in concern as he tried yet another subject to distract Harry's wandering mind.

"So, who do you think will replace Creevy as Chaser in the tryouts?"

The two friends launched into a heated discussion on which classmate they would push to try out for the illustrious position on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. By the time they reached Professor Krieger's office Harry had gained a little bit of color in his cheeks and his eyes had more of their usual sparkle. Harry smiled at Ron and determinedly knocked on the professor's door, suppressing his laughter as he heard the familiar sound of something crashing to the office floor before hearing an embarrassed "Come in!"

The boys entered Professor Krieger's office tentatively; not because they were uncomfortable around him, but only in self-preservation. The professor was known to have caused a plethora of accidents since his arrival in September, mostly involving himself and an unassuming student. As much as they respected the professor, he often looked the fool in spite of his many talents, including his ten years of Auror experience. Both Harry and Ron glanced suspiciously around the office scanning its contents for any signs of danger, such as rabid Doxies, clouds of hinkypunks, or hordes of shrieking Erklings. Harry and Ron took a careful step forward, coming to a stop just inside the doorframe to survey the room.

The office itself contained a long bookshelf that reached from the floor to the ceiling on the far wall littered with various books, parchments, old quills (how they could be old already Harry didn't know), and even a suspect-looking sandwich that seemed to have been there long enough to take up residency. Before the bookshelf was the professor's huge oak-finished desk with two chairs facing it invitingly in an offset position. The desktop was cluttered with marked and unmarked pieces of parchment, three inkwells, more quills, and a candelabrum that probably had not been de-waxed in over a decade. Their professor was situated behind his desk on all fours trying to clean up loose papers that had spilled from his briefcase only moments earlier before they had entered.

Deciding that it would be safe enough to tread further, they both muttered a tentative "Good Afternoon, Professor."

Professor Krieger looked up in surprise. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley! How may I help you gentleman?" Professor Krieger got up from the floor with a heavy sigh and sat at his desk before motioning Harry and Ron to take the two seats in front of him.

As Harry sat in his chair he regarded the man before him with a bit of apprehension. The professor could be described as thin and gangly, reminding Harry of someone who had a growth spurt of a foot in a couple of months and had never become accustomed to their body. He had short brown hair and eyes, a soothing tenor voice, and always had a smile ready for his students. In other words: the exact opposite of Professor Snape.

He cleared his parched throat one more time before he looked into the professor's smiling eyes.

"Professor, you have heard about the girl who crashed through the Great Hall window, right?" He already knew the answer to the question, but was not quite sure how to approach the subject.

"Yes, I have. Various versions of it, in fact." His lips quivered slightly as he glanced at Ron, whose ears promptly turned a lovely shade of magenta.

"Yes …err…well, I was in the infirmary this morning while Madam Pomfrey was treating her and while I was receiving my exit examination, the girl began to convulse uncontrollably. Madam Pomfrey asked me to assist her in holding her down and …err…ever since then I have been feeling a bit …off color." He chose his words carefully, not wanting to give away too much of the frightening experience.

Professor Krieger furrowed his brow. "Have you discussed this with Madam Pomfrey yet?"

"No sir, I was wondering if you knew of any ...uhm…dark magic that could have produced these symptoms."

The man studied Harry for a few minutes before getting up and retrieving a book from his shelf, thumbing through it quickly, finding a passage of interest, and reading it. Harry glanced at Ron who was mouthing something at him that could have been the word 'daft,' but did not respond to his provocation, as his professor made his way back to his desk.

"Well, with the vague information you have given me Mr. Potter, it is hard to tell what precisely may have given you these… 'off color' feelings," he paused and turned a couple more pages.

"Going by the Hogwarts gossip it would be safe to assume that this girl has been hit with various hexes or curses and that by the time you had assisted Madam Pomfrey your body was used as a vessel, or conductor for her residual dark energy."

"Residual energy, sir?" Harry was more confused now than before.

"Yes, Mr. Potter. Whenever someone is hit with any type of spell there are traces of residual magic that linger and course through the body of the affected. In her case, there were residual traces of dark magic, which, in certain quantities, may overload the mind and body if not released. You say she was convulsing?"

"Yes, sir."

He turned another page in his book before continuing. "Convulsions are the result of the body's attempt to depolarize magical residue. I would not bet my life on it Mr. Potter, but it seems to me that your touch drained the girl of this surplus somehow."

Professor Krieger glanced up from his book and looked at Harry thoughtfully, his eyes taking in the features of the tired young man before him.

"I think you should return to the infirmary for another examination, just to be sure that everything is alright."

"Do you think that this residual magic is harmful, Professor?" Ron was sitting on the edge of his seat a worried frown etched on his features.

The professor smiled at Ron and shook his head. "No, Mr. Weasley. He will probably be a bit woozy for another day and then should return to his normal happy self by tomorrow."

"Thank you, Professor."

"Yes, thank you for your time, Professor." Harry added as he followed his friend out of the office. Although Professor Krieger's explanation made sense he still had more than enough questions that were left unanswered. His trembling hand rubbed his dully aching scar as they made their way to the library to find Hermione.

"See, mate? Nothing to worry about. It's not as if she's You-Know-Who…" Ron's words trailed off into a higher-pitched nervous laugh followed by deathly silence.

Harry's mood was becoming darker by the minute. Not Voldemort indeed.

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"Has Dumbledore been contacted?" The clipped question came from none other than the fully drenched Potions Master.

"Yes, this morning after I reset the wards I sent an emergency owl to the Ministry." Minerva watched the precise motions of her longtime colleague. He really was irascible!

Severus performed a drying spell on himself and began to roll down the sleeves of his shirt. He glanced over at Madam Pomfrey, who was busily tucking her unconscious patient into a freshly made bed, swishing her wand to assess the effectiveness of the bath. After buttoning up his many layers of black clothing he motioned the two women to follow him into the nurse's office. He was adamant in finding out just who this intruder was, and establish the threat level the school and its occupants found themselves in.

Upon entering her office Madam Pomfrey walked behind her small desk and began making notes in the girl's chart, while Minerva gave Severus a questioning stare. He scowled at her as usual before focusing his attention on the contents of the office.

"Did she arrive with anything Madam Pomfrey, other than her clothes and that cloak?" His eyes fell upon a bloodied heap of rags by the side of her desk.

"No, Severus. The clothes on her back were all she came with." Madam Pomfrey looked at him over the rims of her small reading glasses.

"Well, have you searched them yet?"

"Of course not! When did I have the chance to do that?" She snapped exasperatedly.

Severus brow rose in indignant irritation. "You mean to tell me that the trespasser has been here for the past eight hours and you have not seen fit to search her clothing for any signs of identity or intent?" His eyes flashed dangerously.

Professor McGonagall put up her hands and closed her eyes, praying for patience. She was not about to listen to another spat between the two of them. Without a word she swished her wand and levitated the soiled clothing before herself and Professor Snape, who promptly began patting the fabric with both hands from the bottom up. Within seconds his hands connected with something small and round and he deftly removed the object from the tattered robes. When he pulled his fingers from the fabric he revealed a small vial of sapphire blue potion. He clenched his teeth forcefully and sneered at the two women in triumph.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" He purred in a soft voice. "It seems to me that this _child_ has been hiding a vial of the _Draught of Living Death_ from us." He paused for emphasis. "I do not have to explain to either of you that a drop too much of this potion could kill a fully grown man." He scrutinized the contents of the vial with the eye of an expert. The potion had been brewed expertly he noted, its coloring and density perfect. "There is enough here to do just that."

"Severus, there could be an entirely different reason for her to be carrying that type of potion." Minerva was becoming highly annoyed with the professor's suspicions.

"Name one, Minerva," he regarded her with a cold and challenging look that was returned just as coolly. The Deputy Headmistress let out an un-lady like 'humph' and crossed her arms before her bosom in annoyance as she silently watch Severus resume his pat down of the robes.

It did not take long before his long, tapered fingers found the hidden pocket on the right-breast side of the cloak, bringing forth an empty vial and a thick parchment envelope stained brown with dried blood. He quickly uncorked the vial with his thumb and brought it to his face, inhaling what was left of its fumes.

"Fortifying Draught," he mumbled to himself, rolling the delicate vial between thumb and forefinger. He wondered when she had ingested this strong version of the Pepper-up potion, or if she had at all.

His attention shifted to the soiled letter in his hands as he brought it closer to his face, trying to decipher the flowing script under a particularly dark blood stain. Although the first part of the recipients name had vanished the last stood out boldly in fancy manuscript etched in blue ink: Dumbledore.

Upon further inspection, Severus found the letter sealed with a dollop of blue wax and a hasty indentation of a family crest. With squinting eyes he tried to decipher the Latin phrase crowning above the blue shield topped by three wands in a chevron-like style, framing a radiant cobra: _Cum sanguis adipiscor honor _- 'With the blood I gain the honor'.

This was the Flint family crest. Why would _any_ member of the Flint family, who were all dedicated Death Eaters, want to willingly contact Dumbledore? Especially with such unorthodox means as the one resting a few feet away from them! There were four who could have penned this missive and each seemed as unlikely as the next. There was Faustus Flint, whose lust for power and its spoils had been paramount during the past twenty years. Severus doubted that this had changed within the past 48 hours. His son Marcus Flint on the other hand had only been a Death Eater for a little over a year and could have regretted his decision, reaching out to Dumbledore as Severus himself had in his time of need. Farrell Flint was also an avid Death Eater, true to Voldemort's cause for many years, though his passion for revels had died down of late, he was still a force to be reckoned with; the only spring of intelligence on the family tree. His wife, Melanie, supported her husband and thus the Dark Lord, making the likelihood of HER writing this letter slim to none. Well, this was an enigma waiting to be solved, and he promptly delved his forefinger under the flap of the envelope. He did not get very far however.

"What, if I may ask, do you think you are doing, Professor!" He had forgotten that the women folk were still standing about and graced Minerva with a coy smirk.

"I am about to discover who is lying in the hospital, Professor McGonagall," he answered poignantly.

"Sir, that letter has not been addressed to you, and should thus be opened by the addressee only," Minerva's complexion was becoming blotchy as she tried to keep her temper under tight control.

Severus was not phased a bit as his finger continued its journey under the wax seal. With a quick movement he did not think Minerva to be capable of she snatched the letter from his grasp.

"We can not read Albus' mail! Have you ever heard of owl fraud, Severus?"

"In times as these, owl fraud, as you call it, is farthest from my mind," he retorted sardonically.

He watched Minerva place the letter safely within her robes with a challenging quirk of her eye brows, and decided that nothing was important enough to dig out from the witches clothing. 'I will simply have to do this manually,' he thought sarcastically.

"It seems you leave me no other choice." Turning on his heels he walked out of the small office, Minerva hot on his heels.

"Severus, I implore you NOT to do something stupid." He sent her a cold look down his nose as he made his way back to the girl's bedside. While ignoring the Deputy Headmistress he leaned over the shivering body, lightly placing two fingers to her carotid artery at the base of her neck and feeling the strong and steady current of blood beneath her skin. His hand moved upwards settling lightly on delicate eyelids lifting them to reveal fully dilated pupils, confirming what he had thought all along. Madam Pomfrey's patient had slipped into another level of consciousness and could not be roused from her body's forced slumber. He straightened his upper body and turned to face the women behind him with blank expression.

"I will have to Astral Project," he told them without preamble.

"You will WHAT?" Professor McGonagall looked as if she was about to have a major aneurism, her nostrils flaring madly and her eyes bugging out of her head. 'Definitely not very flattering for her complexion,' Severus mused.

"Astral whatsies?" Madam Pomfrey had no idea what in the world they were discussing, but understood that it was NOT in the girl's best interest.

"This…heathen here," she paused to take in a shaky breath, "has suggested to forcibly enter the child's mind with the means of his own soul!"

Poppy frowned at Minerva, while Severus busied himself with levitating a vacant hospital bed next to the occupied one.

"Are we not talking about a form of Legilimency?"

"Legilimency is only successful under certain conditions; being in a state of consciousness is one of them. If I would perform the spell I would only find myself faced with a dead wall of darkness." Severus spoke slowly as if to educate the feeble minded; Poppy did not rise to the bait.

"So what is it you propose to do then?" The nurse was loosing the little patience she possessed.

"Instead of my mind penetrating hers, it will be my soul in its place."

Madam Pomfrey's jaw dropped, as she watched the dark man arrange himself on her hospital bed. 'He really HAS lost his marbles,' she thought uncharitably before finding her voice to object.

"Not on my watch, good sir!" She hissed at him folding her arms in front of her frame.

"I fully agree with Poppy on this, Severus. We should wait for Dumbledore's return and not attempt something that will rid your body of its soul, as black as it may seem." She added that last bit for effect and only got a small lift of his derisive brow in return.

"As…_touching_…as I find your display, _ladies_, I have made up my mind on this matter. If this person has been sent by the Dark Lord to infiltrate Hogwarts there will be no measure to the consequences her presence may have." Severus pierced each woman with his penetrating gaze before continuing in a soft, lilting voice. "We have to search for and eliminate any threats to the inhabitants of this castle and the longer we postpone the inevitable the less time we will have to act accordingly." He concluded his dialogue with a dramatic shift of his body, lying flat on his back with his long robes settling perfectly around his frame.

Madam Pomfrey determinedly walked up to the side of his bed, leaning ominously over him bringing her face inches from his own. Her eyes were flashing while her voice dripped with false sincerity

"If you, _Professor Snape_, harm this girl in any way shape or form while you are 'gathering' your supposed information, I will personally see to it that your soul does not make it back to your body! Do we have an understanding?"

Severus looked up into her slit eyes with a touch of amusement forced his muscles into a rare, but small, smile. He never knew he had a female equivalent.

Madam Pomfrey did not know what to make of the professor, especially when he attempted to smile. Without knowing it he had just single-handedly taken all the wind out of her sail and shocked her into silence. She was still thinking about the utter wrongness of Severus Snape's facial movement as two strong hands pulled her away from his vicinity and sat her down in a chair at the end of his bed.

"I am sure that Severus understands the repercussions." Minerva was still miffed, but could not help her own lips form an amused smile. She knew that there was truth in what the Potions Master was saying, thus allowing him to proceed with this madness of 'soul searching' he was about to commit. She hoped dearly that the girl was not hiding anything sinister from him and settled herself to watch in a second chair at the foot of her bed.

Severus began to clear his mind fully and inhaling deeply, filling the spongy lung tissue to its fullest capacity and releasing it slowly. After a few breaths he began to hold it for as long as he could, feeling the pressure in his lungs trying to burst forth and rejuvenate with fresh oxygen. Slowly, he released his pent-up breath through his mouth, inhaling deeply once more a second, third, and fourth time, lightheadedness overtaking his senses. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling of the infirmary, his mind cleared, and body relaxed as he took another rib-cracking inhalation and holding it until he could see little white dots glittering and blurring his vision. When he released his breath this time he expelled it forcefully still staring unblinkingly at the spot on the ceiling. He could feel a familiar tingling sensation creeping through his body as he took another breath, holding it, and expelling it only after the edges of his vision were shrouded in inky blackness. With the rush of air flowing over his lips he could feel himself detach and float, his gaze never wavering from the white ceiling until it seemed to come closer.

The tingling sensation continued to course through him as he shifted his _essence_ slightly to find his target lying next to his own body right below him. He focused all of his energy onto the girl's forehead as he rushed, as if falling, toward her limp body. As he entered she tensed, drawing in a noisy breath that seemed to catch in her throat lifting her upper body involuntarily. As the girl's breathing evened out Minerva and Poppy watched a small, spidery silver thread began to weave itself from her temple to his.

"The connection has been made," Minerva whispered to Poppy. "And now we have no choice but to wait."

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The falling sensation had a nauseating effect, forcing him to close his eyes and brace himself for the inevitable impact. Fortunately, the laws of gravity did not apply in the human mind, as his feet gracefully touched soft ground. He opened his eyes and took a few breaths to steady his churning stomach and becoming acutely aware of his unfamiliar surroundings. The sweet fragrance of spring-fresh grass after an April downpour filled his nostrils in a powerful rush.

'She must like the smell of rain,' he thought cynically, as he familiarized himself with the surroundings. He was standing on a small clearing covered in lush emerald-green grass that glistened with freshly fallen rain drops. About fifty paces before him was a small forest shrouded in heavy, rolling fog. Severus tried to adjust his eyes to the dusky light that surrounded him when he heard the rolling of thunder from behind. His eyes quickly darted to the heavy blue-black clouds that were stirring in a counterclockwise motion emitting angry flashes of lighting and booming claps of thunder. He understood quickly enough that the darkness of the clouds were closing in quickly on the dimming light where he stood. He had to find her, and quickly before she tried to expel him from this place.

He set out silently toward the heavily wooded area of the forest, spotting a small break in the clouds to the north of him above the giant tree tops. The sun seemed to enter there at a sharp angle while the clouds swirled around it; he had found her hiding place and homed in on it with heavy, long strides of determination. The forest was dense, thick with underbrush and near impassible. He swore under his breath when his knee made hard contact with a four-year-old oak sapling along the way. Even though he was not connected with his own body he still felt the pain shooting up his thigh, darkening his already bad mood.

'The chit better be worth it," he thought uncharitably.

It seemed like bloody ages before his dark surroundings seemed to become a bit lighter, shy beams of sunshine breaking through the verdant foliage. He cautiously stepped over a fallen tree trunk and tried to be as noiseless as possible approaching the sun-drenched clearing. He could hear the soft trickling of water nearby as he hid in the shadow of a spruce. His obsidian eyes quickly rested on the solitary figure basking in the sunlight by a small terracotta fountain, her feet dipping leisurely into its sapphire depths.

She was clad in a simple white gown that extended primly down to her ankles, but currently hiked up mid calf. Severus' eyes wandered up her form and lingered on slightly upturned lips and then her auburn hair turned fiery by the sun's caresses. He raised a mocking brow.

'The chit thinks very highly of herself.'

He pushed himself from his hiding place and slowly entered the clearing. He knew that he would encounter a defense mechanism of some sort; probably a bolt of lightning that would hit him from above thrusting him out of her mind and into his own body. He took a few more steps toward her turned back before stopping dead in his tracks his expression turning grim, jaw clenched. Amongst the soft rush of water he could hear something more malignant and threatening and turned his head infinitesimally to the right. He was staring into the red eyes of the biggest, shaggiest, and Merlin help him, meanest dog he had ever seen. The animal was growling at him menacingly showing off three perfect rows of serrated teeth that glistened with anticipation.

'Impressive defenses,' he mused to himself.

The soft voice of the girl interrupted his thoughts and the dogs growling.

"Peaches, you silly thing!"

'Peaches? What a bloody stupid name for a killing machine such as this. Well, then again FLUFFY was a crazed choice as well…wait a minute, if this is her defense mechanism then why did she just call it off?'

The 'beast' looked at its mistress balefully, probably in reaction to having been called by such a silly name, and slowly trotted over to her side, Severus' eyes following its every move.

"I was wondering when you would be here."

He sharply looked at her with a penetrating stare. She had spoken softly and that damnable smile was still caressing her coral lips. Coral lips? What the hell was he thinking? And…why in the name of all that was holy did she act as if she knew him?

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**Author's Note**: Well, if you have read this far and have NOT reviewed…well then…NO MORE SNAPEY-GOODNESS FOR YOU! Teehee! Please review!

Thank you to all of those who have though: lucidity, LKLTB, Eva Moon, ThouandI, Nova Viper, Secret x, Minty Soda! I get so happy when I see the messages in my in-box saying that you guys reviewed! Thank you!

Also, Mysticsong1978 has made some fantastic fan-art that you can view from her homepage. Just click on the link and then search for the gallery. If you want you can join our yahoo group and read small tidbits on chapters in progress. Just click on MY homepage from my profile.


	9. Revelations

**Potions: What Would a Girl Do Without Them?**

**by Slave4Severus**

**Disclaimer: I own the Lord of Rockbridge, nothing else.**

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Severus blinked uncharacteristically as he stared at the young woman before him. 'Peaches' had made his way to her side and docilely sat on his haunches watching him, ready to leap at his throat if the need called for it. She serenely petted the top of the dog's head stopping behind its ears, giving them a good scratch.

"He is only trying to protect me. He does not know…"

He watched her smile at him, a faint blush creeping onto her milky skin. All he wanted to do was ask her what that thing did NOT know, but he refrained from veering off the main reason he was here.

"Who are you?" he asked in a low and menacing voice, his eyes having turned to black slits as he studied her reaction.

Her forehead wrinkled in slight concern. "Odd, you have never asked me that before."

'Before?' Something was going on here that Severus must have missed. Was the chit mentally challenged in some way?

He stopped his thoughts as she gracefully got up from her seat and slowly walked toward him. With every step she took the sun was becoming dimmer around them until the clouds shielded every last ray from the clearing. Severus looked up in alarm and awaited the lightning to strike any minute. He was cursing himself for not asking more questions when he had the time.

The lightning did not come however as darkness fell around them. He was so absorbed in the changes taking place in their surroundings that he physically leaped back a few paces when he felt two small hands stroking the front of his robes. Out of instinct he grabbed her wrists in a vise-like grip; stopping any type of movement as her features disappeared in the murkiness that permeated the area.

If Severus was not holding on to her he would have thought himself alone in the blackness; the only sound the screaming of his beating heart as he waited for her mind to make its next decision. He could hear her ragged breathing; her hands resting limply in his grip were cold as ice.

His sense of smell was the first to awaken in the darkness as he took a deep breath with intentions to lacerate with his wounding Celtic tongue. There was a subtle odor swirling up from her person which seemed oddly familiar. He inhaled deeply once again, smelling and tasting the new sensory input presented to him.

Severus identified the scent at once as poached Ashwinder eggs and stewed oysters; a combination only used in love potions and their derivatives. He could hear the faint rustling of trees in the distance as the scene she chose took the form of a meadow with a forest to his left and a building of some sort to his right. He scrutinized the façade of the house finding it oddly familiar, but was not able to place his finger on any particular memory. A perfectly rounded, bright moon crowned over the tops of the trees illuminating the structure from the front.

Flint Manor.

An icy realization gripped him as he slowly turned back to the chit plastered against his chest; he has lived through this episode before.

Severus' eyes widened, his breath hitched, and his nostrils flared.

He was facing the impudent creature he encountered on this very spot over a year ago.

'Bloody Hell!'

Remembering what he had done the last time he was in this situation he cursed himself for not having realized how young she really had been. Teaching her a lesson was the only thing on his mind. Merlin, he was relieved that she was not one of his students. He could feel her step between his legs pressing her thigh strategically against his groin. He swore to himself once more, sealing his lips tightly to stifle his body's treacherous reaction that dared to surface from the depths of his chest.

The bloody twit had tried to poison him! With a love potion no less! Him! A man who could identify odorless poisons in mere seconds! She was hiding something and he would find out what it was exactly…and had she really planned on seducing him? His eyebrow quirked at the possibility.

Not that she would have gotten very far…

"Who sent you?" he hissed threateningly as he brought his face down closer for effect.

He could feel her hips rotating against him invitingly as he suppressed an annoyed groan. He stilled her movements with a tight grip of his hands, anchoring her to him. He stared down at her face with interest as the moonlight played with the tendrils of her hair illuminating her porcelain complexion. A small smile graced her lips.

Sweet Merlin! She was not even fazed by him! What was the world coming to?

'Time to up the glare.'

"I will not repe"

"—eat myself, girl. Answer the question!"

She had the gall to giggle at him before curving those lips into a small smile. Oh, how he wished to dock points…

"What do you want?"

The question was clear and to the point. Severus was finished 'playing' her little mind games and grimly waited for her reply. If she took longer than thirty seconds to answer he would have to shake her soundly once more. He had no tolerance for arrant girls who did not do as they were told.

She had that look in her eyes again that made the phrase 'grinning like an idiot' come to mind.

"I want…"

"Speak up girl!"

Her hands were tightly gripping the front of his robes pulling him closer down for what he thought would be the explanation he was waiting for. Severus barely tilted his head to the side in hopes of hearing her whispered answer.

She was so close he could feel her hot breath along the side of his jaw as she spoke once more.

"I want…"

He did not know if it was her mind or his own that pushed him from her thoughts. When he analyzed his actions later he would never admit to himself that this waif of a girl actually 'forced' him to do anything, but deep down he had to admit that what she 'wanted' shocked the hell out of him.

One second he was staring at her upturned face and the next he found himself in a swirling vortex of nauseating images. He closed his eyes, awaiting the contact with his own body as he weightlessly floated toward his destination. He could feel a forceful tug around his waist and chest as he entered his own body, anchoring himself within, not unlike the pull of a portkey. Not entirely the same, but certainly just as unpleasant.

Severus came up sharply gasping for breath. The overwhelming feelings of dizziness and nausea forced him to lie back on his cot with his eyes closed. His breathing was harsh and irregular as he swallowed convulsively to keep the burning bile in the back of his throat to a minimum. He was not about to wretch on the infirmary floor; his fragile dignity would not allow it.

He was concentrating solely on evening out his breathing.

In…out…in…out.

For a split second he thought she had followed him into his own mind as his heightened senses once again detected two hands grabbing the front of his robes. His eyes flew open as he pushed at the offending figure before him.

"Unhand me!" he snarled viciously, detecting a hint of panic himself, before he realized that it was Madame Pomfrey and not the girl.

Without another word and a faint blush tingeing his pale complexion he got up from the bed, righting his frock with a sharp pull. If he could only manage to focus all of his energy on making it to the fireplace he could attempt a dignified exit. He needed the solace that only his private chambers could give him and hoped that the two women would let him pass without question. With an icy glare and ramrod spine he strode out of their midst. Thankfully, he was spared any inane questions and made it to the other side of the infirmary without interruption. Severus' trembling fingers reached for the small dish of Floo powder, extracting a pinch of the chalky substance, and throwing it into the fire. While he felt the usual fast spinning in the network, the roaring in his ears had been replaced by the repetition of the girl's shocking sentence.

"I want…you!"

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"Did he just say 'unhand me'?"

"Yes."

"Thought he did."

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She was in heaven.

Pure, dark, musty, restricted heaven.

Hermione poured over the tenth Dark Arts book, skillfully flipping through its pages, running her index finger lightly over the yellowed parchment. To her right she had a stack of notes on possible explanations for Harry's condition and to her left various pages summarizing each book she had researched from; she would file these away for later use. She could not help feeling slightly annoyed as Madam Pince disturbed the silence with the clicking of her sensible, black pumps.

"Miss Granger." The librarian's soft voice sounded incensed.

'Harry and Ron must have tried to get back here again.' She thought uncharitably.

"Misters Potter and Weasley would like a word with you. Please inform them that the Restricted Section is out of bounds and if I catch them trying to sneak in again I will have to assign detention."

"Thank you, Madam Pince. I will advise them momentarily." She plastered a little smile on her lips and lowered her eyes meekly while gathering up her notes and replacing the books lovingly on their respective shelves. With an almighty heave she loaded her Rucksack onto her shoulders and hunched out into the main bowels of the Library.

Weaving her way slowly through the stacks she spotted her two best friends sitting at a secluded desk, looking rather uncomfortable. Harry seemed obviously exhausted while Ron…well he just seemed out of place amongst any type of book. He had perfected the bibliophobic stare years ago.

The boys finally noticed her walking towards them and looked much relieved, though neither of them stood to help her get the monstrosity off her back. She raised a mental brow before thinking that chivalry truly HAS died.

"Alright there, 'Mione?"

"Did you find anything?"

What kind of a question was that? Of course she found something! Didn't she ALWAYS find something? Honestly! She removed her Rucksack and searched for her notes.

"Yes, I found loads on residual magic and curse scars." She sat down heavily on the vacant chair between them. "Now, before I begin what did you find out from Professor Krieger?"

After a VERY short recap that left much to be desired she began from the very beginning; might as well explain to Ron what residual magic was once more. Ron finally nodded with comprehension, or at least she perceived enough of a neck movement prompting her to move on to the next topic.

"I have mainly been focusing on why Harry was the one channeling the negative energy and not Madam Pomfrey or Professor Snape. They were the only ones to our knowledge that had immediate interactions with her." She scanned over her notes before continuing. "Most references pointed out that an overload of any type of residual magic will kill the witch or wizard in question. However, those cases are rare because it takes a number of spells to build up that kind of charge; the darker or unforgivable the spell the more residue that is left behind. The vessel that is used to depolarize or neutralize this state has to be connected to the victim in some way. This connection must not only by physical but there has to be a metaphysical component as well."

Hermione took a deep breath registering the slight confusion on the boys' faces.

"Metaphysical?"

Hermione sighed. "Ron, look it up in a dictionary."

After seven years of constantly having to educate him she was finally losing her patience. 'This must be what Professor Snape feels like every day of his life.' She mentally shook herself and continued where she had left off.

"Now, the night before she arrived here at Hogwarts you had been incapacitated by another one of your nightmares, in which you obviously dreamed about certain happenings that included her. Correct?"

Harry nodded in agreement.

"I believe that your dream has connected you to her plight on a subconscious level, forcing you to be the receptacle of her bodies 'waste material' so to speak."

"Urgh! You're her bog, Mate!"

"Ron!" Both Hermione and Harry hissed at him in unison, effectively cutting off any further interruptions.

"That is not all. The fact that both of you are carrying the same scar could have something to do with it as well. It kind of makes you two kindred in someway."

"Do you think that Voldemort gave her the scar on her neck?" Harry was thinking about the smaller version that he had seen and furrowed his brow in thought.

"I am not sure Harry, but we don't know of any other people with a scar like that. What are the odds that it was inflicted by someone other than You-Know-Who?"

The three friends looked at one another in thought before Hermione continued.

"What if the creation of her scar had a similar effect on Voldemort as mine did?"

"This opens a whole new can of worms, doesn't it?" Hermione sighed heavily. "I think we need to go and talk to Professor Dumbledore about this. He should be able to explain things properly." She got up from her seat and packed away her notes. "Right after you go back to the infirmary for a second check-up. You haven't been looking well all day."

Ron wholeheartedly agreed on that as he got up as well, brushing aside Hermione's hands from her Rucksack in the process.

"Let's go and get some dinner first. I'm starved!" He lifted the back with ease and draped it over his right shoulder. "And I am expecting you to eat more than you did at lunch Harry."

Hermione who had just been surprised by Ron's actions tried to stifle a grin to no avail. Harry darkly stared at Ron's retreating back before muttering, "Yes, Mrs. Weasley."

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The double doors of the infirmary silently opened on their own accord admitting Headmaster Dumbledore, who strode purposefully toward Madam Pomfrey's office, doors closing behind him without any indication of being touched. The usual jovial attitude that surrounded the Headmaster had vanished, replaced by the brooding and calculating man that had sparked fear in the most evil of wizards. He softly rapped on the office door and entered before he had been asked to do so, softly closing it with a thud behind him.

Madam Pomfrey was just in the process of serving Minerva a good cup of strong tea with a dash of her special elixir. Albus knew of course that she plied the strained nerves of her colleagues with Kräuterschnapps.

"Good evening Ladies." He bowed slightly as he walked across the small room and accepted a non-laced cup from Poppy's hands, shifting his attention to Minerva's grave expression.

"I came as soon as I could Minerva. What exactly has happened?"

Dumbledore transfigured himself a nice, plushy, red armchair that he promptly sank into before giving the Deputy Headmistress his full attention. Minerva placed her tea cup on Poppy's desk and folded her trembling hands in her lap.

"The oddest thing happened this morning Albus. Someone actually penetrated the school wards and flew through the southern bay window of the Great hall."

Albus raised a bushy white brow and looked at her over his spectacles before motioning her to continue. It took both women, Poppy would add a few comments here or there, about thirty minutes to fully convey the bizarre happenings of the day, concluding with Severus' abrupt departure an hour ago. Since then they had kept a close vigil over their charge, who seemed to be most distressed by the Potions Masters invasion of her mind, panting and moaning incoherently.

"Along with the potion vials Severus found this." Minerva presented him with a very thick envelope splattered with dried blood, which he gravely took from her.

"Before I read this, I would like to know what the extent of her injuries were."

Poppy pulled out her patient's file and began to read off the various ailments that she had been treating all day.

"Well, let me see what we have here. She has been hit with the following curses: the Blood Boiling Curse, Cruciatus Curse, Slicing Hex, an unidentifiable curse that hit the back of her head, Stupefy, and finally the Killing Curse, which left a small scar on the side of her neck. Abrasions are as follows: both knees, superficial scrapes on face and neck, and 394 small fragments of glass from the window she came through. She has suffered from four bruised and broken ribs, lacerated lungs and spleen, severe bruising on thighs, chest, arms, wrists, neck, and right eye. She had a double-fractured jaw bone, a contusion on the right side of her head, and deep lacerations on her lower back, left shoulder, and the base of her skull, which caused a moderate to severe concussion. All this is rounded off with four frostbitten fingers, one dislocated right shoulder from the impact in the great hall, and various older injuries that have not been mended to my satisfaction, such as a fractured femur, right ankle, dislocated _left_ shoulder, not to mention the dangerously high fever that has been racking her body since early this morning."

The unbearable silence that followed her speech spoke volumes. All three adults could hardly believe that the girl was even among the living, let alone recovering, after such a harrowing ordeal. Minerva was the first to speak.

"Severus believes that she has been sent here with dubious intent."

"It is hard to say at this point what the meaning was behind her dramatic arrival. However, I will read the missive she has delivered under hopes that it will shed more light on this situation."

Madam Pomfrey got up from her chair and walked toward the door. "I will leave both of you here then, while I check on my patient." With a soft swish of her skirts she departed the office, leaving Albus with his letter and Minerva with a full bottle of Kräuterschnapps.

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_To: Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_From: Farrell A. Flint, Lord and Family Head_

_If you're reading this, it means that my most precious possession has made it to Hogwarts and my wife and I have not; we are probably dead at the hands of a Death Eater attack instigated and lead by either Lucius Malfoy or Severus Snape, the closest Beloved of the Dark Lord's circle. Please find a gentle way to break this news to my darling daughter, as I know she will be devastated by the loss._

_I would like to begin by explaining my actions to you, even though it seems too late now for forgiveness. As you may recall I left your institution after my seventh year and promptly followed my father's footsteps into the services of the Dark Lord. I had been brought up thinking that his way was the right and only way to serve the greater good. I would be lying if I denied having spilled the blood of innocent victims; wizard or muggle alike. These sins are what I will have to pay for in the afterlife, I am sure of it. For years after my initiation I did not think anything wrong with my actions as blood thirsty or wrong as they seem to me now. I loved the chase and kill of muggles and muggle-born witches and wizards alike, and that thirst only grew over the years. The Dark Lord used me as his intimate contact abroad and sent me off into the farthest places of the earth in order to generate new followers for his noble cause. I was barely in England long enough to consummate the marriage my father had forced upon me before I was required to depart once more. Over the months I returned home only in duty to my young wife, who had been forced into our union just as much as I had. Over a two year span we progressed from a state of quiet contempt to the fragile beginnings of a true marriage._

_But then something happened. Something that I would never have thought possible and when I unwittingly let down my guard it felt like a giant fist that had forced itself with wrenching precision into my gut. My wife bore me the most beautiful and perfect daughter any man could ever wish for. And it was then, when I held the pink, wrinkled, screaming infant in my hands that I decided to change. For the first time in my life, I knew what it meant to love someone unconditionally, and it was this love that prompted me to act accordingly._

_It seemed during the hour of her birth that many events happened in rapid succession. Firstly, my entire childhood flashed before my eyes and I have to say that I was left wanting. My father had been a cruel disciplinarian and I vowed to my daughter right then and there that I would never raise my hand to her for any reason; a promise I have kept over the past 17 years. Secondly, I did not want to expose her to the concept of the Dark Lord as I had been since childhood. I wanted her to make her own decisions based on life and not have the shadow of finality loom over her head. I had also seen what the Dark Lord did during his initiation process of Death Eater daughters and the process that used to delight me to no end seemed the most vial act of debauchery I had ever had the displeasure of witnessing. My daughter would not become a brood mare for the Death Eater masses; another vow I have kept. Lastly, a whole other form of life flashed in rapid succession before me; the life that every father now tries to shield their daughters from. My bachelorhood. _

_Within the first few hours of her life I susepted my child to various spells that would conceal her existence to the world around us. I was even contemplating on shielding her from the rest of my family, but decided that it would be in her best interest to meet and interact with them, knowing she would not be exposed to outside stimuli. They too were placed under a spell, so complex that they only remembered her at the Flint family manor, but conveniently forgot she existed the minute they stepped past the powerful wards. It seems in the end that my family has been my ultimate downfall._

_I was cautious and wary to begin with amongst my Death Eater companions, and with every year that passed I disliked their revels and raids more and more, distancing myself from physically having to participate in their blood sport. I do not expect it of you to understand my reasoning to not fully turn to the light all these years ago, but my primary objective had been to stay alive to watch my daughter grow up. I lived within shades of grey for thirteen years not fully serving the dark side and not crossing over to the light either. The eve of my daughter's fourteenth birthday, though, thrust me forward into the quest of aiding the light defeat the Dark Lord once and for all. It was a usual summoning that night. The mark burned like hot daggers into my skin as I donned the required attire and readied myself to apparate to the Dark Lord's location, when I was stopped by the slight figure of my child clutching my robes and thanking me for her 'furry, little' present she had received. Not thinking too much on it I departed, vanishing into the darkness to join my Lord. That evening was spent at yet another revel, where the blood of the innocent flowed crimson for hours. After the customary pillaging and raping of muggles and muggle-born, a higher ranking Death Eater approached the Dark Lord with an offering to be made in his name. Little did I know that this 'offering' was the man's young, teenaged daughter who was more than unhappy to be there. The Dark Lord rose and thanked the man for gifting his daughter's virtue to one of his high ranking Beloved and promptly summoned me and Severus Snape to his side. Needless to say that it was I who had the displeasure of breaking the girl in, and have suffered nightmares ever since. She was not older than fourteen herself._

_Since then I have been an undercover informant for certain individuals in the Ministry of Magic, anonymously of course. I have never regretted my choice of turning on the Dark Lord, I only wish that I could have been more of an asset to the cause. Though it deeply saddens me that I will not see my daughter grow into the remarkable woman she will no doubtedly become, I leave this earth with the knowledge that at least one innocent has been spared by my tainted hands._

_In parting, I hope you will grant a dead man's final wish. I am asking you, Albus Dumbledore, to be the solicitor of my final Will and Testament to be found in the next pages of this letter. I know that I have been a very black sheep who has never truly been part of your fold, but you are the only one that I can trust in my postmortem need. The most important issue at hand is keeping Alanna safe, for the Dark Lord will not want to give up the chance on avenging my betrayal. Hogwarts is the safest place for her to be, and I beg you to keep her safe._

_Gratefully yours,_

_Farrell A. Flint, Lord of Rockbridge_

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**Author's Note: **Hey there everyone! Sorry that I left you with a cliffie in the last chapter and made you wait this long. Please don't flog me! As always, a big shout out to all of my reviewers! WEIRD SISTER you owe me a cookie..to be delivered by email if you please. Teehee! Other sweets are welcomed too.

Thank you to Mysticsong1978 my wonderful beta.

Also, go read the great fic by HazelVervain! It's worth it I promise.

Now, I am writing on the next chapter…see you soon!

P.S. Kräuterschnapps –German; similar to Jaegermeister


	10. That not so Fresh Feeling

**Potions: What would a Girl Do without It?**

**By Slave4Severus**

**Disclaimer: I still do not own any of J.K.R. characters. Even though I wish I did. **

He must have been a rabid banshee in a past life to deserve this. Yes, that must be the answer. Not being a Death Eater for the past twenty years, but a rabid banshee who must have tortured en masse to deserve the never ending hangover, and another mind-numbing and ungodly-early morning meeting with Albus. Severus clenched his teeth in vexation as he watched the 'chipper' Headmaster offer his usual round of muggle sweets to the occupants of the Staff chamber.

"Could we perhaps begin this meeting, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore suppressed the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth as he looked at Severus over his glasses.

"Rough night, Severus?"

The Potions Master narrowed his eyes. As if the old codger did not know he had been drinking his finest single-malt scotch all night, and not even his strongest batch of hangover potion could rid him of the bleary eyes and cotton mouth.

He could feel the poignant stares and suppressed smirks from most of his colleagues, but only voiced an inaudible 'humph' retreating behind his curtain of greasy, black tresses.

A few snickers and soft whispers later the staff came to order as the last of them, Professor, and Severus used this term lightly, Trelawny appeared and took her seat, straight-backed and sour faced. It was common knowledge that the praying mantis of the North Tower hated mingling with her peers that did not possess the inner eye, though hers seemed in a perpetual state of obscurity. After the jingling of her many hoops and bangles subsided Albus pushed back his heavy wing-backed armchair and rose leaning his hands firmly on the long, mahogany staff table before him. Everyone knew why this meeting had been called, of course, and seemed unnaturally awake and anxious for the Headmaster to explain the appearance of the girl.

Albus scanned the members of his staff with watchful eyes, lingering on his eccentric Potions Master. He knew Severus would be the hardest to convince of his actions in Alanna's interest and convincing him of her innocence or benign presence would prove even more difficult. He would have to accept his wishes of course, but he knew Severus would not acclimate silently; such are the woes of a Headmaster.

"I know that all of you are aware of what has transpired within these walls during the past twenty-four hours. In order to quell any rumors that have been circulating I would like to give a short account of yesterday's happenings."

After reviewing the day's highlights Albus continued.

"I would like to thank Professors McGonagall and Snape for their fast thinking in securing the school and seeing to the students' safety during my absence. Also, a very heartfelt thank you goes to our overtired medi-witch, who has spent many hours saving the life of the young woman in question."

Severus pierced the old man with a cold stare, knowing exactly what he was trying to do; he was stalling.

"Before me I have enough evidence to assume that this child is without any means of protection, and have therefore granted her asylum within our walls. She will attend Hogwarts as a st—"

"Merlin's beard, Albus! Will you finally grace us with the name of the girl!" Severus patience seemed to have run out as he leaned toward the head of the table, eyes narrowed and a cold sneer gracing his thinned lips.

Albus raised his brow and stared over his glasses at Professor Snape, he could prolong the peace no longer.

"It seems that we are hosts to Farrell and Melanie Flint's daughter."

The soft gasps and murmurs rippled through the staff, the ones who did not know who they were discussing were quickly made aware of the girl's parentage. It was, however, the reaction of the Potions Professor that Albus was interested in the most. His gaze never wavered from the dark man, as he made the announcement and watched, while Severus gracefully rose from his chair, staring unblinkingly at the older wizard.

"That is not possible!" Severus hissed through clenched teeth. "I know for a fact that Farrell has never sired an offspring."

"Is that so, Severus? And how did you come to this conclusion?" Albus could not help but bait the man, it just seemed too easy.

Severus straightened and fixed the Headmaster with a glare. "I have been in contact with Mr. Flint's brother Faustus over the past years, mostly concerning his son Marcus, while he still attended Hogwarts. He had always let the small slip of information shine through that Marcus was the heir of the Flint title and estates. Never, has there been any talk of another child in the family. Do you not think it odd, Albus, that there is a supposed daughter of the eldest son residing in our own Hospital wing?"

The real reason of course was that Severus had been to Farrell's estate many times and had never glimpsed or heard a child within its walls. An avid Death Eater such as Flint would have been proud to have borne a pureblooded witch and would have offered her to the Dark Lord at the young age of fourteen, as was customary. The girl in the Hospital wing, however, was definitely older than that.

Farrell Flint had a daughter. The thought was just unimaginable!

"Your concern has been noted, Severus, but I have documents here that confirm who she is and what she has inherited upon her parents death."

"You are going to let a few pieces of parchment confound your better judgment as to the potential threat the girl poses?"

He knew he had crossed that fine line between annoyance and anger when Albus straightened his spine and looked down upon Severus with his flashing blue eyes, the wandless magic radiating from him in rolling waves.

"Are you questioning me, Professor? Do you actually think that I, while you have conveniently been locked in your dungeons for the past seven hours, have not verified the claim that has been made through these documents? The parents are dead! The proof has been established and I will not stand by here and listen to one of my own trying to turn away an innocent!"

"I do not wish to disrespect, Headmaster, but I am only asking for extreme caution in her case. If she truly is who she claims to be then I can assure you that she could have ulterior motives in being here."

At his statement Dumbledore dismissed him from his gaze and addressed the staff as a whole, while Severus seated himself, seething beneath his cool exterior.

"Her name is Alanna Jade Flint, born April 22, 1979. She is the only child of the recently deceased Farrell and Melanie Flint, who both attended Hogwarts as Slytherins during their formative years in the early seventies. Up to this point she has been privately instructed by none other than the head of Magical Studies at Oxford, Professor Carl Correlius, whom I have contacted by emergency owl for academic references in each subject she will take during her stay at Hogwarts. I am pleased to announce that she is proficient in all subjects, but exceeds in Transfiguration, Charms, Care of Magical Creatures, and Potions."

"Excuse me Headmaster, THE Professor Correlius? The one who received his Merlin First Class for his services in the German Wizard Rebellion in 1933?" Professor Vector's small voice could be heard over the second bout of anxious whispers between the staff. Professor Snape's scowl deepened at the approval of his peers who did not seem to heed his warnings at all.

"Yes, Viveka. The one and only. He has asked me to inform all of you to owl him should any difficulties arise with his longtime pupil. He states that she is unusually bright and could pass her N.E.W.T.'s with flying colours if she wished to take them in the near future."

A soft groan could be heard from across the room at that declaration. Professor McGonagall looked at the vexed Potions Professor with an arched brow before she heard the nearly inaudible mumblings.

"Merlin help us! Not another Miss Granger."

"I will trust that all of you will make Miss Flint feel welcomed once she has been released from Madam Pomfrey's care. Until then, please try to quell as many rumors about her as possible. Some very interesting conclusions have already reached my ears that I have found most disturbing." A small smile flitted over his features.

"The meeting is hereby adjourned. Would Professors McGonagall and Snape please stay behind; to everyone else I wish a pleasant Wednesday morning."

Amongst excited chatter, scuffing of chairs, and shuffling of feet the staff left to attend to their morning meals in the Great Hall. Both Severus and Minerva moved closer to the Headmaster and sat in the chairs to his left and right, silently waiting for the older man to proceed.

"There are other matters that need to be discussed at this point. After having spent the past hours pondering Alanna's future I have decided that she will reside in Gryffindor house for the remainder of the school year."

"Should she not be sorted properly, as all the other students, Albus?" Professor McGonagall pursed her stern lips.

"There is no doubt in my mind that the child would be sorted into Slytherin if she donned the hat, however, it would not be wise to place her amongst a potential threat brought on by Death Eater advocates. By placing her in Gryffindor she will not only be protected by her house, but also by any potential friends she should acquire; and something tells me that Miss Flint will get along splendidly with Miss Granger."

Severus quirked a black brow. "Honestly, Minerva. I thought you would be pleased. Another cub for your little pride." His voice oozed sarcasm as he impaled his fellow professor with a black stare.

"Now, Severus, do not be jealous," Albus admonished with a light chuckle.

"Absurd!" Severus spat, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Minerva pointedly ignored him.

"The seventh-year dormitories are, unfortunately, fully occupied, but I will ask Miss Granger if she would share her Head Girl chambers with Miss Flint."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully, rubbing his long beard between the fingers of his wand hand.

"I am afraid that we will need more information on Miss Flint's appearance here. I have read the letter with which she arrived and it seemed that Mr. Flint knew who his assailants were. It would explain why he was so well prepared in leaving his titles, lands, and other worldly goods to his daughter. As a matter of fact, you, Severus, were named in the letter as being one of the men in question that may have assaulted his family."

Dumbledore lightly folded his hands before him, pressing both of his index fingers against his lips in a pondering gesture and looked over his glasses at Severus. The dark man seemed unmoved, however, and he softly continued.

"Aside from the fact that you spent that particular night brewing a potion, that conclusion of course is the farthest from the truth, meaning that we should explore the possibility of Lucius Malfoy being the main instigator. Given the information you have supplied me with from your meeting with Voldemort, he would be the most likely culprit."

Albus moved his attention to the pieces of parchment splayed before him, glancing over them and folding them neatly into a small pile.

"I think a visit is in order, Severus, to obtain any type of information pertaining to this delicate situation. I would like you to leave for Malfoy manor within the hour if at all possible, my boy."

"Of course, Headmaster, but if I may be prudent…" he took an inaudible, steadying breath, "who will be substituting my classes during my absence?" He dreaded the answer by the look of utter delight that spread across Albus' face.

"Why, I will be my boy! I already have this potion in mind for the third year classes that involves the combination between a love and truth formula…"

"Albus, you will desist on teaching my students these ridicules concoctions that seem to spawn from the recesses of your mind. It takes weeks to get them back to where they should be, hence the fact I NEVER take a leave during the school year." Severus tried to remain calm, cold, and collected. It seemed that the old man always knew how to bring the blood in his veins to an instant boil.

"I have to agree with Severus on that." Minerva had been quietly watching how rigid Severus was sitting in his chair, while Albus delivered his little speech. It was the truth of course that the Headmaster always knew what to teach the students during a Professor's absence that would spawn a plethora of questions and havoc upon their return to the classroom. She hated to agree with the head of her rival house, but it was true.

"Remember the time I had been called to the bedside of my ailing sister in Bath? Of course you do, I can tell by that flash of mirth in your eyes," she stated annoyed.

"It took four weeks to convince some of my brighter students that they could actually not transfigure those damnable chocolate frog Wizarding cards into life-like replicas of the face upon them. ESPECIALLY after you supposedly showed them how it was done." Minerva let out an unladylike scoff. "Hence the reason why I, as well, hate leaving my classes to your tutelage."

Both professors looked at each other in silent agreement.

"Oh, come now, Minerva. There has never been anything wrong with giving you a little bit of a challenge, right?" Dumbledore cleared his throat and busily picked up his papers and stood, not even attempting to suppress the broad smile that crinkled every laugh line in his face.

"I will not even lower myself to answer that question, Albus," she said huffily and rose from her seat as well. "If there is nothing else to discuss I will be joining the staff at breakfast."

Albus bowed slightly as Minerva purposefully left the staff room, her heeled boots echoing angrily on the stone floor; the soft thud of the door signaled her departure.

With a small wave of his hand and a softly muttered word Albus placed a silencing charm and faced Severus once again.

"In the letter that Miss Flint arrived with her father has talked about an anonymous contact in the Ministry, whom he had been feeding information to about Death Eater activities. I do not have to tell you my concerns about such a contact and the danger it may pose to our new student. I have already contacted reliable sources in the Ministry who will give us information, should there be any of value. I want to ask you to keep an eye out amongst Voldemort's ranks, just in case…" He trailed off and looked at the younger man thoughtfully, who in return nodded curtly at his superior.

"I will depart within the hour, Headmaster," Severus inclined his head slightly and began walking toward the door, before he was called back once more.

"Oh, and Severus, my dear, dear boy; just one more question?" The Potions Master stopped his long legged walk and turned his face to the side, eyeing Albus over his shoulder.

"Why did you feel the need to drown yourself in several bottles of expensive spirits?"

He could hear the laughter in that damnable voice of his. Cursing himself and nosy headmasters he forcibly cleared his mind and practically flew out of the room, closing the door firmly on Albus Dumbledore's laughter.

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As promised, Severus left the castle thirty minutes later, a lot more sober and clad in one of his better black robes, which sported a hint of silver lining as they billowed in his wake. The October weather had been unpredictable as usual, as gusts of heavy, cold wind tore around his body, as if attempting to unsettle his unyielding stride to the main gates. Leaves and other tiny bits swirled around his dark imposing form, never settling on his person as they cascaded downward in their final dance of autumn. He could smell the crisp promise of the first snow in the air. His eyes glanced upwards into the darkening sky, a far away rumble of thunder rolled over the mountains in the distance. Without breaking his stride he apparated to the central house of Lucius Malfoy.

Just beyond the trees Severus could make out the huge white structure. White, clean, perfect . . . and cold; a remarkable resemblance to the lowlife that owned the place, he mused. Perfection, however, is never quite what it seems, for in the bowels of the manor Lucius spared no expense to install various _rooms d'agonie_, or torture chambers. There had been numerous nights Severus wished he had not been on the exclusive guest list, participating in staining the floors of the dungeon dark red.

He quickly approached the main gates of the grounds, formally introducing himself by merely stepping through the ancient wards protecting the manor. His eyes roamed over the windows of the east and west wings for any sign of activity, as he took the marble stairs two at a time toward the black front door, which stood heavily adorned with a variety of silver snakes, including a cluster of intertwined snakes that created the door handle with their bodies, and an ornate door knocker comprised of two silver snakes biting into a smoothly rounded piece of crystal; their fangs holding the heavy glass in place. As he raised his hand towards the orb, the door slowly swung open before him. After a moments pause, Severus strode into the front parlor.

"Inform your master that I have come to call on him," Severus' voice was barely above a whisper as his restless eyes scanned his surroundings before settling on the small house elf cowering behind the door.

"Yes, Master Snape, sir." The elf vanished with a soft pop, but not before Severus made note of its appalling condition. A small smirk came across his features. Lucius had to be furious this time based on the appearance of his help. The elf sported not just one black eye, but two, along with various bandages around his arms and legs; this could only mean that Lucius did not look much better.

Within a few short minutes the elf popped back into the parlor, holding its bleeding nose with one of its bandaged fingers.

"The Master will be with you shortly, Master Snape. He would like for you to wait in his private study. If you would follow me please," the beleaguered creature squeaked as it turned around, and as quickly as its limping legs could carry it, scrambled up the stairs to the second floor.

Severus followed at a short distance, taking in the darkened corridors and closed off rooms he passed in his wake. He thought it strange, but kept any type of comment to himself as he was shown into the spacious, and also darkened, study, which had been tastefully redecorated since the last time he had seen it. The four windows were drawn with heavy velvet curtains of forest green while the couch and armchairs before the fireplace were of a tasteful crème colour framed in dark cherry, and placed on a rather expensive looking Persian rug that was clearly meant to be the focal point of the décor. The wall bookcases, bar, and desk were just as he remembered.

"The Master will be with you shortly, sir. Would Master Snape like Mushu to bring some tea?"

"That will not be necessary," he snapped, as he lifted aside one of the heavy curtains to look at the perfectly manicured garden below.

"Very well, sir." With another pop of elf magic, he was left alone.

After a few minutes of looking out the window, Severus turned to the room and silently walked over to the bar, where Lucius always kept stock of his finest. He picked up a bottle of Brandy, looked at the label and discarded it just as quickly before his gaze caught a deliberately hidden bottle of Russian Topaz vodka. His fingers ghosted over the label with reverence as he broke the seal, inhaling its fumes, gingerly filling a scotch glass over halfway; completing his ritual by dropping in three ice cubes from charmed silver bowl.

He may as well enjoy what Lucius had to offer while he waited.

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"Professor Dumbledore, sir. Could I have a moment of your time?"

Albus turned and looked down on Harry Potter with a soft smile.

"Of course, Harry. Do we need to speak privately or is it something we can discuss en route to your next lesson?"

Harry shifted his weight from one foot to the next while a small crowd of Ravenclaw second-years passed them through the double doors of the Great Hall.

"I believe a more private setting would be adequate." Harry smiled nervously and followed the Headmaster to an adjacent antechamber, which he promptly warded and silenced before turning his attention back to the young Gryffindor.

"What is it you needed, Harry?"

"Well, sir. I was wondering if Madam Pomfrey has told you anything about my stay at the infirmary the other day."

"I knew you were spending the night Harry, but other than that she has not mentioned anything to me. She has been very busy with our new arrival, you know."

"Of course, sir. I was only wondering because she mentioned that she would inform you about what had happened to me while I helped her with the girl in the infirmary," he looked up into the questioning eyes of the headmaster and continued.

"I woke up from my potion-induced slumber, got dressed, and went to find Madam Pomfrey for my exit exam that morning. I felt a bit groggy from the potion and had a pretty bad headache to boot, but felt fine otherwise. When I found her she was tending to the badly injured girl, who suddenly began convulsing on her cot. I was asked to help and I did, holding her body down while the nurse fetched a potion vial. I saw her scar, sir. It looks just like mine, only smaller, right here on her neck." His fingers lightly touched the side of his neck in emphasis.

Dumbledore looked at him thoughtfully before he spoke.

"Did you see anything when you touched her, Harry? Anything at all?"

"Only fleeting images, sir. I saw Lucius Malfoy leaning over me, flying at high speed through a forest, hexing Death Eaters, and being caught in a fog-like substance. I also felt pain, sir, as if everything the girl felt had transferred to me by merely touching her. I had to be forcefully removed from her person by Madam Pomfrey."

Harry took a deep breath before he continued.

"What I really want ask you, professor, is if a scar like mine can be produced by any wizard who uses the killing curse, and if so, if it has the same results as mine did."

"To answer your first question Harry, yes, a scar like yours may be created by any wizard or witch who uses the killing curse. However, there are circumstances that have to be in place for such a scar to be created. For instance, in your case there had to be an enormous amount of power behind it fueled with the self-sacrifice of your mother, thus your scar is more visible than the one you have seen on the young lady in the infirmary. Other factors include curse-combinations, blood-based killing curses, and non-direct hits of the curse. We will have to wait for her to wake before we can pinpoint the exact reason for her scar. To answer the second part of your question, no, not all survived killing curses have the same reactions. As mentioned before, power and self-sacrifice destroyed Voldemort, but other effects range from wand-shattering or loss of magic to certain types of deformities or loss of mental cognitive powers."

"Do you believe that Voldemort hit her with the curse?"

"Do you not believe that you would have felt it if he did, Harry?"

Harry contemplated that statement for a moment and agreed. He did not receive any images from Voldemort other than furious, second hand memories he had extracted from a Death Eater.

Albus removed his Wizard watch from his robes and checked the time.

"I am afraid I will have to leave you now Harry. If you are suffering any ill-effects from helping Madam Pomfrey with her patient I advise you to go and see her. One can never be too cautious," he smiled down on him and unwarded the doors with a wave of his hand.

"I am fine, and thank you for taking the time to talk to me, Professor."

"Any time, my child, any time," Albus swept out of the room and quickly walked toward the stairs leading down to the dungeons.

Harry watched him descend the stairs thoughtfully. Even though he felt much better today he was contemplating on visiting the infirmary later to find out if the girl had woken up yet. Maybe he could ask her a few of his own questions. Ron and Hermione could use his invisibility cloak if they insisted on accompanying him.

With this in mind he left the antechamber and made his way to double Transfiguration on the fourth floor.

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Severus leisurely sipped on his drink as he watched the door of the study from his vantage point on the couch. He had been waiting fifteen minutes already and was becoming more agitated by the second. With a quick flick of the wrist he tossed the rest of his drink and stood, walking toward the mantle of the fireplace staring into the fire's golden-red glow.

"Severus, what brings you to my humble home at this time of day?"

Severus looked up into to the huge mirror mounted above the fireplace and stared into the not-so-fresh looking face of the senior Malfoy. Lucius was dressed informally in grey slacks, white half-unbuttoned shirt, and dark burgundy silk dressing gown belted loosely around his slender hips. His usually sleek hair had been haphazardly tied with a black silk ribbon, a few blond tendrils hanging matted and limp around the side of his face. He had a deathly pale hue to his skin and lips, emphasized by the dark circles under his slightly puffy eyes. His usual smirk had been demoted to an odd-looking half-smile, giving Severus the suspicion that he had applied a well placed glamour on his face to hide any bruising.

Severus lips twisted into a cold little smile, while he inspected Lucius from head to toe with a sweep of his eyes in the mirror.

"Lucius, old friend, you are looking rather…well," Severus replied smoothly and turned around to face him.

"I can not complain, _old friend_," he sauntered slowly into the room, lowering himself into a comfortable looking armchair.

Severus could tell he was trying to suppress the sigh of relief one felt when suffering deep pain and had forced him or herself into sitting down.

"It has been far too long, Lucius, since I have paid you a visit."

"This is why you come by unannounced on a Wednesday morning? Tell me, Severus, who is teaching my heir in your absence?"

Severus arched a black brow and walked back to the bar, refilling his glass. "Your son is well taken care of in my absence."

"Let me rephrase, will you enlighten me to why you are here imbibing from my best bottle of vodka?"

"I was wondering how you were feeling, Lucius." Severus filled a second glass with fire whiskey and handed it to him with an unreadable expression.

"You have woken me at the ungodly hour of seven to ask me about welfare," a lazy smile played around his pale lips, "why, Severus, I am touched! I did not know you were vying for the duties of a common house-elf."

Amused by his own little jibe, he chuckled charismatically, before wincing in obvious pain.

Severus pulled out a small, brown leather pouch from the recesses of his robes. "I suppose you will not need these then, will you?"

Silver-grey eyes instantly focused on the Potion Master's hands with a flicker of recognition.

"So, you have not been feeling a little off-colour lately?" Severus slowly began to untie the leather thongs from the pouch. "I must have been mistaken you with somebody else then," he opened the pouch to reveal four different coloured vials nestled in the soft suede lining. "Even though I could have sworn that you belonged to that high-pitched squeal torn from your chest by our Lord."

Lucius instantly met his eyes in a cold stare filled with fury. He was not aware that there had been a witness to his utterly humiliating display before the Dark Lord two nights ago. He had suffered many bouts of Crucio amongst other physical assaults that he wanted to forget as soon as possible. Unfortunately, he had been commanded not to heal himself and a trip to St. Mungo's was most definitely out of the question. He hated being in debt to someone he loathed.

Severus had begun to twirl a plum coloured, opiate-based pain relieving potion between his long, slender fingers.

"Tell me, Lucius, what did you do the other night to deserve such…atrocious chastisement?" He smirked coldly.

"Where were you that you could not make it to find out for yourself?" He countered with obvious restraint.

"Unlike some of us, I actually do something with my time. You may have heard of it Lucius, it is called working; and no, I am not referring to the barely legal aged Mudbloods you seem to have a taste for," he added sarcastically.

"Your attempt at wit is lacking this morning, old friend," he retorted icily, "but I will be a good sport and participate in this little game you insist on playing."

Lucius shifted his weight slightly as he took a small sip from his crystal glass and eyed the other man critically.

"He was displeased with me because I let something of value slip out of my grasp," he took another sip and did not continue further.

Before Severus could further enquire, they were interrupted by a soft knock at the study door.

"What!" Lucius hissed viciously, while the figure of a house elf apparated beside his chair, offering an ornate silver plate on which a letter had been placed. Severus could make out the familiar flourished writing of Draco's and regarded the other with masked interest.

"Out of my sight!" Lucius spat, before focusing his attention on the letter resting in his hands. "You will excuse me if I do not wait to read this missive," he said loftily and proceeded to gracefully sever the wax seal from the parchment, unrolling it, and finally scanning its contents.

Severus could tell that the older Malfoy was not pleased with the news his son had sent him by the subtle way his nostrils flared and the unblinking stare that came over the other man's face. He quietly folded the parchment and looked up at Severus pleasantly, although his face was still etched with traces of fury.

"I hear a little pigeon flew into a window?"

"You could say that, yes."

"Without breaking anything?"

"Nothing that could not be fixed," Severus placed his glass on the mantle. "I should thank you, Lucius."

"Why is that?" he asked tersely.

"Due to your inadequacies in seizing one little girl, I will have the opportunity to once again reside in the Dark Lord's good graces," he replied silkily.

Lucius had begun to shake with suppressed rage at his words.

Severus moved closer to where the other man was sitting, before softly continuing. "Imagine the rewards he will give me for placing her…beneath my tutelage."

Lucius remained silent, but Severus knew that as soon as he had the means he would retaliate with some form of malice. With an evil smirk he handed him the purple vial and replaced the remaining ones into the folds of his cloak.

"I would advise you to take this on an empty stomach."

With a quick movement of his hand Lucius grabbed the vial from Severus' thumb and forefinger, looking grimly at the swirling liquid within.

"See you at the next meeting, _Brother_," and with that Severus left the other to his anger.

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"Why do you have to be so short, 'Mione?"

"Excuse me for not being over two meters tall!"

Harry could hear the whispered rantings of his two best friends as they made their way to the infirmary doors. He was beginning to regret ever having told them about returning to the infirmary for a quick check-up and chat with the girl, providing that she was even conscious at this point. He had been thinking about her all day and had been sufficiently distracted during all of his lessons. He was more than thankful that Professor Snape seemed to have taken a mini-holiday and left Professor Dumbledore in charge of his class or Gryffindor would have lost more than the usual fifty points during that class.

A loud sneeze behind him pulled Harry from his thoughts.

"Ronald that was highly disgusting!"

"I can't help it if that mane you call hair tickles my nose!"

Harry rolled his eyes and looked over his shoulder at the deserted hallway.

"If you two can't behave I will march you straight back up to the tower."

Hermione's small voice was the first to answer.

"Sorry Harry."

"Yea mate, sorry."

"Alright, her bed is toward the left end of the ward next to the big window on the end. Make sure that Madam Pomfrey does not hear your footsteps, I will try to get her to tend to me as close to the girl as possible," and before he could forget, "and Ron? Please, try to keep your opinion about her looks to yourself."

A "very funny, Harry" was the grumbled answer he received before they silently approached the double doors of the infirmary. Harry took hold of the ancient, brass door knob and gave it a little push, but nothing happened. The disembodied voice of the medi-witch made him jump back and draw his wand on reflex.

"State your name and form of malady."

"Uhmm…Harry Potter….errr…nightmare side-effects?"

There were a few seconds of silence before a small click could be heard from the door.

"You may enter," the voice said gravely.

"Thanks," Harry responded softly before pocketing his wand and opening the door quietly, scanning the spacious room for Madam Pomfrey. She seemed busy tending to two new patients situated only a couple of beds over to the right of the entrance doors. Harry quickly stepped through and felt the telltale 'swish' of his friends passing him before he closed the door behind him. Without giving the two another thought he focused all of his attention on the nurse, whom he waited for patiently to realize he had entered.

Without looking up from a Slytherin fourth-year the medi-witch addressed him. "Please move closer to the potions cabinet, Mr. Potter, and wait for me on a hospital bed."

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey."

Harry moved to a bed that was right across from the girl's privacy screen and seated himself on the end of it, nonchalantly gazing at the occupant between the sheets. In that moment Ron and Hermione slid off the cloak to uncover their heads only as they too looked at the girl in the bed.

"Wuhmph."

Hermione rolled her eyes before she whispered, "how very eloquent Ron, now if you could translate that for us we could actually respond."

Ron looked over at Harry and then back at the sleeping form.

"You didn't tell me she looked like this!" Ron's voice sounded accusingly, just as it had only an hour earlier when Seamus ate the last éclair from the dessert tray at dinner.

"Yes, I did tell you how she looked like," Harry glanced down the hall to where Madam Pomfrey was still tending to her other two patients.

"You said she looked like Snape!" A small shudder ran through Ron as he remembered his best friend comparing the beautiful creature before him to that pasty, snarling git.

"Honestly!" Hermione had enough of this hormonal banter and moved closer to the girl on the bed. She removed her small hand from the cloak and barely tilted the other girl's head to the right, exposing the scar under her left ear. Just as Harry had told them, the scar really was a smaller version of his own, but that Harry's curse scar seemed to be a head-on hit, hers must have been created from another angle. Before Hermione could touch it Harry hissed at them to get back under the cloak.

"Sorry for the wait Mr. Potter, but I am sure you will understand, especially with all these students still attempting entrance without being seriously ill," Madam Pomfrey's echoing footsteps came to rest right beside him as she pulled out her wand and run it over his form.

"So, tell me Mr. Potter what has been ailing you?"

"Uhmm . . . well I have been very dehydrated lately and have mind-numbing headaches," Harry could see a disembodied hand trying to catch a lock from the girl's hair before it was hit with a small smack from a smaller one, unmistakably Hermione's. Both arms disappeared just in time before Madam Pomfrey whirled around to see where the sound had come from. The nurse walked over to her other patient and tugged at the blankets a bit, smoothing out some non-existing wrinkles before returning to Harry's side and resuming her assessment.

"Well, Mr. Potter, it seems that…"

The doors to the infirmary opened and Albus Dumbledore entered the ward in a flurry of robes and beard. Harry's blood ran cold as he tried to make eye contact with his invisible friends, urging them to take cover from the all-seeing eyes of the headmaster.

Hermione saw the wide-eyed look of her friend and tried to look around the privacy screen to get a glimpse on who had just entered. It was Madam Pomfrey who gave away the newcomer.

"Good evening Headmaster, how may I help you?"

'Oh bugger!'

Hermione began pulling at Ron's sleeves, pressing him down into a kneeling position that she soon followed. She quickly pointed her finger under the hospital bed and received a puzzled look from him. With a not so subtle push, she shoved him under the bed and followed before the Headmaster could round the corner and get a glimpse of them under their cloak. Unfortunately, the space under the bed was very limited and Hermione found her face plastered against his hard upper abdomen, while her body rested between his spread legs; definitely not an innocent position. She shifted her weight a bit and must have hit her elbow against his thigh, forcing a small groan from Ron's lips before his hands took a firm grip on her upper arms and turned her easily. Before she could blink twice Ron had her back hauled up against his chest, her legs wrapped within his in a cross-legged style, and the invisibility cloak fully wrapped around both of them. They were really getting too old for both of them to be under the cloak.

Two pairs of shoes came into view to their right and Ron's arm enfolded around her waist and pulled her closer to him, while his other was busy removing her hair from his face, exposing her left ear to his lips.

"Whatever you do, don't move," he barely whispered, his hot breath tickling across her ear and cheek. Who was he kidding? Hermione did not want to be known as the only Head Girl at Hogwarts to have been caught spying on the Headmaster under an infirmary bed, plastered against the chest, and other areas, of her best friend who, as luck should have it, belongs to the most fertile Wizarding family of the past quarter century! Thus, she kept quiet.

"Ah, Harry, it seems you took my advice to heart."

Harry looked into the smiling face of the Headmaster and nodded.

"Mr. Potter is only dehydrated, nothing a good potion will rid him of," Madam Pomfrey responded quietly and bustled over to the cabinet, selecting one of the many vials before returning to Harry's side, uncorking the liquid in the process. With trembling fingers he took the sky-blue vial from her hand and downed the cool, sticky liquid in one go. As the potion began taking effect he glanced over at the girl on the bed across from him.

"Has she awoken yet, Madam Pomfrey?" There was something about her that forced his protective nature to take over his better judgment. For all he knew she could have been planted amongst them for a purpose. Harry shook himself. If he didn't watch out he would wake up one day and look into the mirror to see the spitting image of Snape.

"No, she has not. However, her health has been vastly improving over the past twenty-four hours and she is stable enough to awaken anytime."

"That is wonderful news Poppy, indeed," said the Headmaster as he took a few steps closer to her bed and looked over his shoulder at Harry. "Now, Harry if you are feeling better I must ask you to return to your dormitory for the evening. Madam Pomfrey and I have important business to discuss."

"Yes, Headmaster," Harry responded automatically and jumped off the bed in a cat-like motion.

"Lots of fluids for the next forty-eight hours, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey clipped before ushering him toward the double doors.

As the doors closed behind him with a soft thud he allowed himself to think freely about how in the world Ron and Hermione were going to make it out of there undetected. He only hoped that Professor Dumbledore had been too preoccupied to realize Harry had deliberately cleared his mind of that bit of information. With a heavy sigh he made his way back to Gryffindor tower to start on his small mountain of homework. Maybe the two would actually hear something of value while they waited.

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Madam Pomfrey strode back to the Headmaster at a swift pace, stopping only once to verify that the students in her care were truly asleep.

"What is amiss, Albus?"

"Poppy, I would like to talk to you about perhaps forcing Alanna out of unconsciousness."

The medi-witch inhaled sharply. "On what grounds do you think it necessary?"

"We have to find out more about what happened to her, in order to protect her adequately."

"Surely, Albus, this can wait a few more days bef—"

"It can not. Most high-potent protection spells can only be applied while the protected is awake and conscious, and based on what we know about her she will bring a high price amongst Voldemort's followers."

Madam Pomfrey flinched at the mention of the name, but shrugged off the feeling of dread that crawled up her spine whenever it was used.

"If she has not woken by tomorrow morning I will consent to it."

Albus nodded gravely and turned to leave, halting after a few steps.

"Ah, Poppy, before I forget. The small scar on her neck may have been caused by—"

The roaring of the fire at the end of the ward attracted the attention of both adults, while the familiar black figure of the Potions Master stepped through the hearth and down the long isle toward them.

Hermione had been straining to listen to the conversation taking place above her that she did not notice the small sound of frustration escaping her lips when the Headmaster had been cut off, or the big hand that was now firmly planted on those same lips stifling any future sound or movement.

Poppy watched the Potions Master approaching, his long strides eating up the ground beneath his black Oxfords. With a sideway glance at Albus, she formally excused herself and retreated into her small office, too mentally exhausted to tolerate the sharp tongue lashing that usually comes with a side of Snape.

Severus approached the Headmaster and nodded at him sharply in greeting, retreating further down the hall for undisturbed privacy. Regrettably, this also brought him closer to…Miss Flint… lying quietly in her bed just as he had left her last. A cold sneer flitted over his features as he averted his gaze from her form to the waiting Headmaster before him.

"Your suspicions were correct, Headmaster," Severus said idly crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"I have thought as much. Have you found out anything that may help us?" Albus said gravely.

"The Dark Lord has taken out his anger on Lucius, and he is not fit to receive guests of any social status at this time," Severus' lips curled in a twisted smile. "During our visit he received a letter from Draco, who promptly informed him about Miss Flint's arrival. He knows she is here and he is not very happy about these turn of events."

Albus thoughtfully stroked his beard and walked to Alanna's bedside looking down upon her sleeping face.

"We should assume that not only Voldemort, but also Lucius would like to bring her under their control."

Severus stepped around the other side of the bed to fully face Albus.

"I am afraid that it is not that simple, Albus. I not only paid Lucius a visit, but have also inflicted the company of Avery upon myself. According to his truth-serum induced explanation there are at least eight other Death Eaters who would love to inflict pain on Farrell's daughter. She, supposedly, hexed and out-maneuvered eight grown men, while two more are currently missing from the Dark Lord's ranks. Although the likelihood of Avery having been supplied with misleading information is great, we should not dismiss these ludicrous conclusions yet," Severus scoffed darkly before adding. "It seems, Albus, that we may have been graced with the presence of a murderess."

Albus looked over his half-moon glasses at Severus.

"This may pose a problem," he moved slowly to the foot of the bed, "I have asked Madam Pomfrey to wake her forcibly by tomorrow morning; we shall know more by then. In the meanwhile, I have the pressing responsibility of appointing a guardian for the child. I have owled multiple families including the Weasleys."

Ron, who had been shocked since the word Death Eater had fallen, had to forcibly bite his tongue on that statement. He didn't know what was worse, the fact that there could be a murderer under his family's roof, or that a girl, who potentially could be a future girl-_friend_ would probably become his…what…half-sister? An uncomfortable feeling in his arm brought him back from his personal nightmare. It seemed that in his shock he must have pressed Hermione a bit too tightly around the waist, her sharp little finger nails digging into the soft flesh of his forearm. He instantly let up on his death grip and took an inaudible, cleansing breath.

"Do you think it wise, Headmaster?" Severus narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "To affiliate this girl with an Order member may put us at danger."

"Severus, a guardian has to be appointed as soon as possible, for there have already been three other petitions at the Ministry.

"Who?" The question was short and to the point.

"I believe they are Malfoy, McNair, and Knott."

All three names left a bad taste in Severus' mouth. He knew exactly what those lechers would to do a young and possibly innocent girl. She would loose that rosy complexion within four days, of that he was certain. Although he did not trust her or her motives, he did not want to see a girl her age tied to any of those men.

"I will take it upon myself, Headmaster, to keep an extra close eye on her activities while she is here at Hogwarts. Perhaps, I will be able to foil any dangerous behavior that may ensue."

"Of that, dear boy, I am most certain," Albus hid his chuckle behind a bout of coughing. "In interim, I want to advise you that I left a detailed summary of today's Potions classes on your desk. I thought you may be interested in reviewing them before tomorrow."

Severus face turned rigid and cold, as his spine straightened and he forcefully whipped his body around to face the exiting Headmaster one more time. While his robes elegantly draped around his frame he did not notice the black fabric striking Alanna's face in the process.

"Yes, I would very much like to resume my duties this evening. The bloody Baron has already asked for an audience to inform me of the latest rule breaking within my own house," his voice sounded sullen, but firm as he bid Albus a good night and swept out of the infirmary at top speed.

"Good night, Severus," Albus watched the professor exit, before looking over his shoulder toward the occupied bed.

"And Miss Granger?" A high pitched squeak came from under the bed, "Please, make sure you see your Head of House before you retire tonight," with that he too left the hospital wing, softly closing the doors in his wake.

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The warm swirling essence of vanilla slapped her in the face. She inhaled deeply, tasting the rosemary on the tip of her tongue, with a hint of musk. Hmmm…that brilliant house elf must be making Rosemary Chicken again! Sweet Merlin, she was hungry!

But something seemed to be wrong with her eyelids; they would not open on her physical command. Alanna's tongue tentatively licked over her chapped lips in an attempt to moisten them, sending a bolt of pure pain from her lips down to the tips of her toes. With as little movement as possible she analyzed and mentally catalogued every pain exuding spot on her body, concluding that her head and neck hurt the most.

And why, by Merlin's wand, was her bed so awfully lumpy?

She shifted slightly on the mattress and winced at the contact. Either she was lying on sandpaper or these must bee the most uncomfortable sheets known to the Wizarding world.

With an effort that rivaled the strength of a fully grown troll, Alanna finally opened her eyes to be welcomed by an unfocused world drenched in semi-darkness. A ray of soft light fell across her face, shielding her vision from the two people slowly emerging from beneath the bed. With every waking second, she felt the tingling sensations of a headache that grew splitting within minutes, her mouth bone dry, and her tongue a foreign object that needed to be removed. A small motion to her right alerted Alanna to a blindingly orange object, barely ten centimeters from her fingertips. She could make out two huge eyes and a nose looking over the side of the bed at her, and wondered if she must have voiced her thoughts on the Rosemary chicken out loud. Her gaze flitted over the short, fire-headed elf, who was looking at her as if she had grown a second head over night.

'Hello fiery-little-elf. I wonder who you belong to…' little red dots began to dance at the side of her vision and Alanna closed her eyes in a soft groan, fighting down the bout of dizziness that shook her vision. She hoped she could ask for some water before the elf disappeared.

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'Oh, bugger. Oh, bugger. Oh, bugger.'

"Oh, bugger!" Hermione scrambled from under the bed and got up as swiftly as her tingling limbs would let her. Professor McGonagall would find out about her spying ways within the next five minutes and the thought of being caught made her blood run cold. She is evolving into an embarrassment to the title of Head Girl.

"We need to get out of here, 'Mione, before Madam Pomfrey comes and catches us as well," Ron's limbs had fallen asleep during the time spent in their crowded hiding place, that he barely kept himself upright on his knees, bracing himself on the side of the bed. A swift glance at the conscious girl assured him that—

'Wait a minute…the girl is awake!'

The shock must have been evident because she closed her eyes to his gaze and swallowed convulsively she softly spoke.

"Water…"

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**Author's Note**: Hey everyone! I know you thought I would forget my story, but alas I presented you with a HUGE chapter. I am writing on the next right now, so never fear. If you are as happy with this chapter as I am PLEASE review. It is the food for my tired brain cells. Cookies are welcomed as well! As usual, I bow down to the goddess of all beta's…MYSTICSONG! Who found a better word for loafers.


	11. Weep not for the memories

**Potions: What would a Girl Do without It? **

**By Slave4Severus **

**Disclaimer: I still do not own any of J.K.R. characters. Even though I wish I did. **

Cooling fingers wrapped around the heated flesh of her neck, gently lifting her from the pillow. Before she could open her eyes, the cool, comforting wetness of water splashed against her lips, which she opened all too willingly. With long, deep draughts, Alanna tried to quench her all consuming thirst, not caring of the few droplets of precious liquid that made their way down her cheeks. Far too soon, the glass was taken from her lips and her head rested once more on the pillow, her protesting groan going unnoticed.

"You can not give her that much, Ron! You are lucky she did not choke on all that water."

Alanna's tired mind barely registered what the voice was saying, only that the mistress must be mad at the little fire-haired house elf, Won. She hoped the delicate little guy would not be reprimanded.

"She was thirsty!"

Alanna grimaced slightly. With that attitude, he was sure to receive corporal punishment from the bossy lady. She cracked her eyes a mere fraction, spotting two figures standing by the side of her bed.

"We need to get out of here before Madam Pomfrey returns," Hermione began draping the soft, feathery fabric of the cloak over their heads.

"Wait," her voice was soft, but desperate.

Both pairs of eyes shot to hers with apprehension, stilling their movements in wait for Alanna's next words.

She swallowed convulsively and gazed back at them with eyes wide of anxiety.

"Please…take me…home…please!"

Hermione's heart tightened and she could feel a lump forming in her throat. Although she did not relish the possibility of being caught red-handed by the nurse, she had a duty to perform to this girl. Alanna's breathing had become labored as the onslaught of pain her body had been assaulted with finally caught up with her, not even adrenaline could stop her from trembling like a leaf. She could not remember ever feeling this horrid in her life, her memories swirling in a dark haze of disembodied images just out of her reach. She stifled a moan and bit down on her lower lip not wanting to show her weakness to the strangers beside the bed, forcefully closing her eyes and tilting her head to the side.

"Ron we need to get Madam Pomfrey out here," she whispered to her best friend, pulling him out of his staring stupor.

"What? Have you gone bonkers!" He replied heatedly before lowering the volume of his voice to a quiet hiss. "You and I will be stuck in detention for weeks if she finds us here."

Hermione scanned her surroundings and picked up a bedpan that was sitting on a side table next to her. She looked over at Alanna with a mixture of concern and pity before dropping the metal object on the floor with a deafening clatter in the silent ward. With a quick flick of her wrist, both she and Ron disappeared under the cloak.

They barely had time to step from the side of the bed into the main isle before Madam Pomfrey came rushing into the ward and straight to Alanna's bed, pulling her wand with such speed that the two friends stepped back a few paces, as she passed them full speed. The slinky material of the invisibility cloak billowed in her wake.

With a wave of her wand, the medi-witch scanned her patient's vital signs, whom had begun to shift uncomfortably on her cot, her face and neck drenched in sweat. With a curt movement, Madam Pomfrey divested the girl of her blankets to gain access to her patient beneath, beginning to undo the first few buttons on her nightgown.

Hermione pushed against Ron's big frame with all her might. They had to get out of the ward as soon as possible, and the big oaf was just standing there ogling the girl on her cot. Seriously! She would really have to speak with him about his non-existent sense of tact. With a hard pinch and a final shove, she ushered Ron toward the double doors, silently treading over the threshold to the dark hallway beyond.

Breathing was becoming harder as she clutched the sheets with her fists. Where was she? Who kept on prodding her with their wand? Oh, Merlin help her, what had happened? A few images flashed before her eyes of driving rain, bright lightning, ferocious thunder, and laughter. A rich malicious laughter that would not stop, echoing around her and filling her with dread. She barely contained a scream, in an attempt to drown out the images and sounds.

"Can you hear me?"

The voice seemed distant, but imploring.

"Alanna, can you hear me child?"

A soft moan escaped her lips, as she tried to focus on the person speaking to her.

"I need you to sit up a little, Alanna."

She could barely open her eyes, how in the world was she supposed to sit up?

"Drink this."

A small vial was placed against her lips, while a strong arm pushed her up into a sitting position. Her trembling lips parted and the bitter tasting potion filled her mouth, burning its way down her esophagus. Within seconds, the pain in her body receded to a dull throbbing as she lay back exhaustedly. She opened her eyes sleepily and looked at the woman who was placing the empty vial on a nightstand. She looked a bit weary, her nurses cap a bit askew on her head, as if she had not slept in a few days. Wisps of her graying hair were framing her kind face, which gave her a bit of a frazzled look.

"Where am I?" Alanna cringed at the sound of her small, whiney voice.

Madam Pomfrey turned to face her with a small smile on her lips, as she uncorked yet another vial.

"You are at Hogwarts, dear."

Hogwarts..Hogwarts…Where had she heard that name before? No matter where she was, the only thing she wanted was to return home. Home…home…she wished her mind was not so befuddled.

Poppy took note of the pained expression Alanna wore and carefully helped her drink down the Dreamless Sleep potion.

"There. Tomorrow everything will look brighter."

Alanna let herself be lulled into sleep by the soft clanking of glass against a metal tray, and the receding steps of the medi-witch.

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The intensity of the sunlight coming through the bay window next to Alanna's bed was what finally woke her. She opened her eyes, but quickly shut them, cursing the house elf who had opened them before she had awakened. Instinctively covering her eyes with her hands, she attempted to block out the rays, while they gradually adjusted to the brightness.

Her eyes opened cautiously as she surveyed her surroundings. She was in a hospital of some kind based on the many beds she could see in her peripheral vision. A very deserted hospital. With a bit of effort, she sat up in bed, but thankfully did not experience any pain. In fact, a warm tingling sensation had spread through her body extending as far as her fingertips and toes. She must have taken some sort of pain and muscle relaxant last night. Alanna wrinkled her forehead in concentration.

'Last night,' she could hardly remember anything that had been going on in the past hours, which truly disturbed her. There was something pressing on the back of her mind. Something she had to do. Something….

Whatever it was, it would surely come back to her. Right now, she had to deal with more _pressing_ problems. She carefully lifted the three blankets that covered her nightgown-clad body and tentatively placed her feet on the granite floor, wincing at its coldness. With unsteady hands, she slowly stood waiting out the bout of dizziness to pass before placing one foot before the other.

She could not recall a time where walking seemed so difficult and exhausting. Her steps were small and tentative, while her hands tried to steady her gait by holding onto anything sturdy enough to support her weight.

If she did not have to use the loo so badly she would have stayed in bed. A few more steps and Alanna rounded the privacy screen and was greeted by…absolutely nobody. The ward lay undisturbed and silent before her; only two other beds seemed to be occupied at the other end. Before she could have another look around, her bladder made itself known once more with an uncomfortable contraction, forgoing her interest in her surroundings. Over to her left were three, unmarked doors, which she promptly approached.

Switching feet uncomfortably, she tried the handle on the first door and opened it slowly, revealing an unoccupied isolation room. Closing the door with a small sigh, Alanna shuffled to the second door.

'Oh, please, let it be the lavatory,' she desperately thought, as she tried the next handle. A satisfied groan escaped her as she entered the small bathroom on the other side, a dozen candles igniting as she stepped over the threshold, the door closing quietly behind her.

After relieving herself, she stepped over to the sink to wash her trembling hands, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

'For Merlin's sake! What happened to my hair?' Her usually sleek tresses were matted to her head in unruly knots. Dark circles stood out purple beneath her bloodshot eyes, and her skin had a sallow and sickly tint to it. She looked like a hag! With frantic fingers, she began to untangle her hair, her mothers meticulous harping on her appearance coming to mind.

'Alanna, darling, because you are not one of the fortunate females on my side of the family to inherit a fine bone structure and delicate features, you will have to take special care in your grooming habits.'

Funny, how she could remember something so trivial, but not how she had gotten here. She stilled her movements and regarded herself once more.

'I am Alanna Jade Flint.' All right, she knew who she was. Now, the last thing she remembered was….her piano lesson. Rachmaninov.

Alanna closed her eyes in an attempt to access her failing memory. She left the ballroom to go upstairs…and walked to her laboratory to…brew some muscle relaxant.

But what had happened next?

She shook her head in frustration, hoping to dislodge any hidden memories within. Why was it so difficult to…then it dawned on her, as her head snapped up and she focused on herself once more in the mirror.

"I must have been obliviated."

That assumption actually made sense. It would certainly explain why she was in an unknown place, full of bruises, and looking worse than she ever had in her life. There was something very disconcerting about waking up in a bed that was not her own. An involuntary shiver ran up her spine before her gaze fell to the faucets before her. A quick splash of cold water on her face relieved the strain of her tired eyes, although she would have rather taken a steaming hot shower in her own bathroom at home.

With a quick flip of her hair, Alanna gathered the tendrils over her left shoulder to run her hands through them one final time, but something caught her eye mid stroke.

"What in the bloody hell is that?" Her right hand flew to the spot on her neck that played host to a very peculiar looking mark. Her index finger flitted over the thin slice mark raised against her skin, eliciting a slight burning sensation that subsided within seconds.

Now she was scarred as well? What in blazes is going on here? Merlin save the witch or wizard who is responsible for her condition! She was not going to take this type of treatment silently.

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His lengthened gait echoed through the deserted halls of Hogwarts as he made his way from the dungeons to the hospital wing yet again! His mood had been as black this morning as it had been the previous evening after discovering what exactly had been lectured in his absence. The old fool actually taught his students the subtle science and exact art that is...candy making! He had more than ten sacks full of nougats, ice mice, blood pops, and other sugary nightmares that had been submitted for grading.

If that had not been enough, he had also been forced to listen to the tirade of the Bloody Baron that had infuriated him even more. It seemed that various females in his house had taken it upon themselves to spread Slytherin pride by coloring all the Gryffindor owls a permanent shade of green.

Thankfully, the irate ghost came upon them after only three birds, which were rushed to Hagrid for a special feather wash. The results had yet to be reported to him, he hoped for the students' sake that it has a positive outcome.

After indulging in only a few hours of sleep, he had been roused from his slumber by yet another disturbing dream that had included none other than the highly irritating Miss Flint. How she could be irksome to him while unconscious was still a mystery.

Severus idly fingered the vial that was resting within the palm of his hand. He had gotten the bottle of Veritaserum out of his personal stores in hopes that Dumbledore would allow him to question the girl. A malicious smirk crossed his features as he turned into the hallway annexing the hospital wing. She would not get way from him this time. Finally, his questions would be answered. All of them.

He entered the ward quietly, hoping that the ever-present nurse would not make an appearance until after he had concluded his business. His eyes quickly scanned his surroundings as he veered left to walk briskly down the isle toward the familiar privacy screen at the end. His good fortune of being alone did not hold, however, as the door to the she-devil's office opened and expelled a tired, but alert looking Madam Pomfrey.

Severus suppressed a groan.

Poppy did not.

"Can you not stay in your dungeon? Must you always meddle in my affairs?" Poppy crossed his path and placed her hands on her copious hips, hindering him from reaching his destination.

"Trust me Madam. Were I to 'meddle' you would surly know," he purred silkily.

"Do not try that velvety voice on me Severus! I promise you it will not succeed."

He was tempted to roll his eyes at the middle-aged witch, but his gentlemanly breeding prevented it. Oh, whom was he kidding! Severus rolled his eyes and stepped around her, a sneer resting on his thin lips.

Poppy narrowed her eyes and followed him lowering her voice into a fierce whisper.

"The child needs her rest! How will she ever recuperate with someone, such as you, disturbing her every five minutes?"

Severus looked over his shoulder. "Do I look as if I care?" He drawled darkly, and passed around the screen; coming to an abrupt stop as he surveyed the empty bed Miss Flint had occupied.

"What is the meaning of this!" He did not even try to contain his anger.

Poppy walked around the black curtain that were his robes and looked upon the empty bed herself.

"She obviously had to…"

"She _obviously_ slipped by your watchful eye, Poppy! I hope you know that we have a highly volatile individual running around this school, unsupervised. I will inform the Headmaster post haste about your serious lack of judgment," and with a furious scowl that could have melted ice, Severus left the hospital wing.

"And once again, he comes to the wrong conclusion," Poppy sighed heavily and made her way over to the lavatory, only a few paces from her office. She quietly listened at the door to confirm the whereabouts of the 'highly volatile' young woman, satisfied only after hearing the unmistakable sound of running water.

Straightening her spine, she turned to the remaining occupants of the ward and busied herself with their well-being, before stepping into her office to floo the headmaster in regards to Alanna's awakening.

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Alanna was thankful for small miracles. The mirror in the lavatory did not seem to be charmed to comment on her lacking appearance.

'Have I always been this vain?' It seemed her mother was finally rubbing off on her. With a final look at herself, Alanna opened the door and walked back into the sun kissed, and still deserted, ward. With unsteady legs, that felt as if she had been hit with the jelly-legs jinx, she finally manages to crawl back onto her cot and cover her cold body with numerous blankets. With a sigh of relief, she leaned back against her pillow, utterly exhausted from the physical activity. Her eyes drooped a little, and suppressing a yawn watched the dust particles dance in the morning sunshine, her mind blissfully blank.

'Vampire blood may be used in various potions as a restorative agent…'she yawned once more. 'Firstly, it has to be kept at room temperature…,' her eyes fluttered and fell shut, '…in order to extract the exact…number of...platelets…'

She must have dozed off for only a moment before being jarred awake by the crashing sound of a door being forcefully opened. Followed by the unmistakable sounds of a roaring floo fire and yet another door opening and crashing against the wall. Thank Merlin she went to the bathroom earlier, or she would have had an accident by sheer fright.

Alanna could hear a loud groan; "Severus, do you never give up?" complained a clipped female voice.

A slightly muffled and irritated baritone began to speak only to be cut off by a cheery wizened voice, "Severus my dear boy calm yourself."

"Albus I insist you look into this matter. The girl is missing!" The dark timbre of the voice hit her, playing havoc with her senses, leaving her a little flushed and over heated. There was this nagging little voice that insisted she recognized it. How could the sound of a voice affect her this way?

"You are more daft than I thought possible! If you would not have run out of here like some _bat_ out of hell then I could have told you where she was!"

"You see, Severus, no harm done."

"That girl needs to be supervised at all times, Albus. We do not know what her…"

"Innocent until proven guilty, Severus."

"I have a potion right here that will prove her _innocence._"

A flash of recognition penetrated her foggy memory. As soon as hit, it faded again into the recesses of her mind, leaving her only with the thought of blackness…black fabric to be exact.

A soft gasp pulled her from her musings. "Headmaster! I must insist that he leaves. Miss Flint is my patient, and she should not be distressed!"

'Oh, bollocks! They are talking about me!'

"Albus I _insist_ on using this to ensure our safety! You know how very much I despise being denied what I want."

"She will not ingest anything that will hinder her recuperation of her injuries. That is my final word gentlemen."

Alanna sat up in her bed in anticipation of the hurried steps that were coming toward her end of the ward. With trepidation, she watched the very angry medi-witch come around the screen, before that gentle soothing voice piped up again.

"She is not going anywhere, dear boy. It is best if we do not question her just yet. Now, I shall meet you in the Great Hall shortly."

Alanna raised her brow at the medi-witch, who seemed to be busy pulling her sheets straight and wielding her wand over her body.

'Not going anywhere? What was that supposed to mean!' Alanna needed to get out of this place that seemed to house a bunch of nutters! Before she could move to get out of bed, however, a tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, looking man stepped around the screen. She felt an odd sense of calmness permeate through her body as she looked at the blue eyes behind his spectacles.

'That is strange…was I not trying to do something just now?'

"Good morning, Miss Flint. I trust you are feeling better," his voice remained calm as he spoke to her softly.

"I have seen better days," she croaked.

The medi-witch handed her a glass of water, which Alanna received thankfully, not letting her attention wane from the older gentleman. With a swish of his wand he transfigured a nearby chair into a very comfortable looking, red armchair, seating himself to her right. With a small sigh he studied her over his glasses, finally introducing himself after a few strained minutes.

"My name is Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

'Ok…does he want a biscuit or something?' Alanna regarded him with a mixture of amusement and anxiety. She was not sure she wanted to hear what else he had to say.

"This here is the hospital wing at Hogwarts. You arrived here badly wounded three days ago."

"Three days!" How could she possible believe that! "You must be mistaken, sir. I was at Flint Manor only yesterday."

"I am afraid it truly has been three days, Alanna." He paused, his eyes searching her face for any reaction. "Do you remember how you arrived here?"

Alanna furrowed her brows in concentration, thinking back at the supposed days she had lost, and once again coming up short.

"No, sir," she knew he wanted to hear more than that, but how could she trust anyone outside of the close-knit confines of her family? And why would she? Based on what she had heard she was kept here against her will.

The Headmaster looked at her strangely, as if he was trying to penetrate her with those piercing blue eyes of his in a calculating stare. She wanted to look away but seemed transfixed by it, holding the gaze boldly until he shifted attention to the witch next to her bed. Alanna blinked a few times.

"Poppy, would you be so kind to retrieve the book that I left in your office earlier?"

"Of course, Albus," with a last look at her patient, Poppy left to fetch what the Headmaster had asked her for.

After the stern witch departed, the Headmaster got up from his seat and pulled out his wand pointing it at Alanna, who reacted with such speed that even amazed her. Having had realized that she had been divested of her wand, Alanna dove from her bed in a scrambling attempt to put any form of object between herself and the wizard who was about to hex her. Her body connected with a loud thump on the floor beside her bed, her bruised bones screaming in anguish. A soft groan escaped her lips as she tried to roll under her own bed for protection. Her heart was hammering hard against her ribcage as she stared at the mattress from below the bed.

The beard and head of the Headmaster came into view to her right, a soft smile playing around his lips.

"I did not mean to startle you, my dear."

"When can I go home?" She really did not want to ask that question, but her longing to be home with people she trusted was stronger than any pride.

"I will have to discuss that with you when you have come from under the bed, child," his head disappeared and she could hear his retreating footsteps, which halted in front of his squishy armchair.

With an inaudible sigh, she clamored from under the bed and back onto her it, sealing her fate to whatever he had in mind. Without her wand, she was practically useless.

"Alanna, we need to talk about your family situation."

Her eyes met his in am imploring stare.

"Something, I fear, has happened…"

Whatever blood that had circulated froze at that statement and drained away, leaving her deathly pale.

"I am afraid I am the barer of bad news. Your family…"

"No!"

She was not going to sit here and listen to some old fool tell her that something happened to her parents!

"I am sorry, child, but…"

"I said, no!" Her voice had taken on a very dangerous tone, her eyes flashing green fire.

"What have you done to them?" she whispered quietly.

"You are mistaken, Alanna. This accident occurred at the manor, not here."

Her hands flew to her ears in an attempt to force out that old, gentle voice that tried to convey the impossible. Her parents were not dead!

"I know that this is hard to understand, but there are certain loose ends that need to be tied up before we proceed with your future."

A huge lump had formed at the bottom of her throat, making breathing and swallowing simultaneously very difficult. He was not going to see her cry; he was not going to see her cry…

"We will need to discuss the appointment of a temporary guardian until your eighteenth birthday. Having been made the executer of your fathers Will, I have…"

"What?" Her voice sounding foreign, even to her ears. "First you tell me they have died and in the same breath I am supposed to welcome a total stranger into my life and let them be a 'guardian' to me?" The tears that had gathered in her eyes were threatening to spill in her anguish. "I will not be handed over to anyone like a rag doll and be expected to comply without a word! Do you take me for a fool, Headmaster? I assure you," she gulped heavily. "I am not!"

"This is for your own protection. We do not want others to be able to take away from you what your father has so painstakingly acquired, do you not agree?"

"I will ask you this one last time. When will you let me go home?" Dumbledore could feel the strong waves of magic rolling off from her small frame. She would be a formidable witch by what he has witnessed.

"You will have to stay here for the remainder of the school year, until you are ready to take your N.E.W.T.'s."

Alanna's face fully closed itself to the old man. "Then I am a prisoner."

"It was your father's last wish."

"That can not be. My father would have mentioned this place if he truly considered having me go to school here after his…demise. He would want me to continue my studies with Professor Correlius at the manor." She was becoming desperate.

"The kind Professor has already sent your impressive transcripts, and the teachers here are eager to make your acquaintance. Most have taught your cousin, you know."

A bark of mirthless laughter filled the silence.

"Then I should be the one wary. He did not seem to learn much at this…_school_."

"Be that as it may, Alanna, but you are going to be here for the remainder of the year. I have asked Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Weasley to become your guardians. Mrs. Weasley will be here shortly. In the meantime, I will have to perform a protection spell on you that will assure your safety from any…outside influences. In addition, your father has created a vault at Gringotts that has become available for withdrawal this morning. I have sent our Grounds Keeper for its safe retrieval."

Alanna sat on her bed looking straight ahead at the stone wall across from her. Her inner turmoil did not show in her face, her cheeks dry, and her eyes hot.

"I want to make it clear, Headmaster that I am not here under my own free will. When the next opportunity presents itself, I will leave this place without a backward glance. I demand a copy of the Will from you as soon as possible, so I can verify with my own eyes that you are its executer."

"That is of course your right, Miss Flint." He rose from his chair, as the medi-witch returned from her office with a heavy book. Dumbledore took it from her without a glance and approached Alanna's bed, handing the book to her.

"This shall help you acclimate."

She took it without looking at it, placing it in her lap. She did not look at the Headmaster as he flicked his wand over her head and muttered a long incantation that left her engulfed in a shower of periwinkle stars. His magic felt like a warm caress that settled around her shoulders, protecting her from whatever he saw fit.

With a fleeting look at the girl, Dumbledore left the hospital ward. The nurse left Alanna's side to treat a wailing child on the other side of her privacy screen.

Her hands trembled and all she wanted was to sob into them, leaving behind this horrid prison that churned with lies and deceit. The reality of something heavy lying on her legs brought her back from the abyss of defeat. Her eyes regarded the title of the book, with a venomous stare.

_Hogwarts: A History_.

Author's Note: Thank you all for reading this chapter!I am trying hard not to be one of those horrid writers who never update! Thank you for all of your reviews. The more the better! Again, thank you Mystic. You are a life safer!


	12. Welcome to Hogwarts Pt 1

**Potions: What would a Girl Do without It?**

**By Slave4Severus**

** Disclaimer: I still do not own any of J.K.R. characters. Even though I wish I did.**

"Thank you for getting here so quickly, Molly." Dumbledore helped the red-haired Weasley patriarch from the giant fireplace in the corner of his office. With a couple of well-aimed whacks, she attempted to free herself of the soot that had caught her clothing on her way in. With a quick hand movement, the offending black marks vanished from her skin and clothes.

"Thank you, Albus," she let out a huff of air before righting herself and smiling at the Headmaster. "I trust you are well?"

He ushered her into his office and offered her a cup of steaming tea, which she accepted happily.

"Yes, all is well. The children are also doing splendidly; I talked to Minerva about them this morning and everyone is doing well. I am sure you will be able to visit with them after we conclude business."

Mrs. Weasley beamed. "That would be delightful."

Dumbledore grew serious then as he pulled out Farrell Flint's Will out of his desk, scanning its contents for the correct passage.

"As I have mentioned to you before, Molly, I have to ask you and Arthur a great personal favour," he paused and looked at her over his half-moon glasses.

"We will of course do everything in our power to help you, Albus," Molly placed her teacup on his desk and waited for him to continue. She was intrigued of course, to hear about what he was proposing.

"Three days ago we involuntarily become the hosts of a Miss Alanna Flint, daughter of Lord Flint, the elder. Unfortunately, the child has been orphaned and her parents have left me in charge to find a suitable guardian for her."

He waited for Molly's gasps of concern to fade away.

"I would like to ask you and Arthur to become her guardians. Now, before you make up your mind I would like to inform you of a few other matters. There have already been three less than savory claims of guardianship at the Ministry that would force the girl into the wrong hands. In addition, there would be a monthly stipend for her expenses. Hogwarts has been paid in full and all of her supplies have already been acquired."

He watched her closely, noting the pity and concern etched on the face of the mother of all mothers. He knew that she would not care about the money, but knowing how many mouths was to feed in her family a little money as an incentive could not hurt. Not that he really believed she would deny the girl.

"Of course we will become her legal guardians, Albus, but I hope you understand that the money has nothing to do with my decision," She gave him a bit of an affronted look.

"I know I did not need to mention it, Molly, but as the executor I had to inform you what would be your right as the guardian," he turned the piece of paper he was looking toward Mrs. Weasley and pointed to the galleon amount at the bottom of the page.

A small 'Eeep' escaped her lips as she made a perfect imitation of the Charms Professor and just about toppled over her own feet as she resumed her seat across from him, wide eyed and blinking.

"We can not accept that type of money, Albus. Absolutely not."

"You can and you will, Molly," he smiled at her knowingly. "Something tells me that you will probably not have it very easy with her anyways."

"Oh, pish-posh! The child has just lost her parents. When will I be able to meet her?" Molly got up from her seat and eagerly walking toward the office door.

"Right now would be a good a time as ever, my dear." Dumbledore was more than pleased with her reaction. He knew that Arthur would follow with whatever his loving wife would deem important for her family and the Order. Adding another lost sheep to the lot would only give her the opportunity to love another child in great need of her support and strength.

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She wanted to scream. She wanted to scream so loudly that the stones around her vibrated with its intensity. The pain and anguish were all consuming, coursing through her veins, as quickly as a fast acting potion would. If her parents were dead, then where were their bodies? Until she could be absolutely sure, she would try not to believe this codswollop Headmaster Dumbledore had dished up. Alanna debated on asking the elderly man where they could be, but decided against it. He did not seem the type to volunteer information easily. She had to remain calm and collected and think!

'Think, Alanna!'

She absent mindedly began thumbing through the first few pages of the massive book before her. The index in itself was twenty pages and she discarded those quickly, opening to the first chapter entitled_ The Foundations of Hogwarts_. Without realizing what she was doing, she began to read, absorbing the knowledge of the founders' creation of her prison. Their detailed work of assuring equal opportunities for all young witches or wizards in need of magical education, until…

Alanna wrinkled her brow. What kind of a name was Slytherin anyway? And Hufflepuff for that matter. It sounded slightly odd, but she continued reading.

Four founders, four houses, three stayed, one was upset, the students are sorted by founder ideals. How delightfully primitive, she thought darkly. Students were assigned an age group and studied the same curriculum for one year, usually ten students of one age to each house. Meals and other activities were partaken with the members of their houses, also considered a family away from home. Alanna's heart clenched painfully and she skipped the passages about the different houses. She would not stay long enough to understand the Raverclaws and Gryffiedors anyways.

A few minutes of skimming each page, she stumbled upon a handsome drawing of a gigantic, rambling, and utterly dark looking castle, with a jumble of towers and battlements. It looked as if magic was the only force holding it upright. Alanna's fingertips traced the north tower, the finely detailed windows of the Great Hall and the huge oak doors of the Entrance Hall. Tiny printed passages revealed themselves beneath her touch with miniscule descriptions of each location. Alanna's nose came closer to the book in order to read the tiny scrawl that appeared to describe the entrance.

_Hogwarts Main Entrance_

_These doors have been heavily charmed to be opened and closed by the senior staff members and the Headmaster or Headmistress only. Although these twenty-foot doors are the main access to the bowls of the castle, there are other ways to enter or exit the building. For more information on Hogwarts Main Entrance refer to page 55. For more information on other entrances and exits, refer to pages 60, 231, 499, and 890._

'Brilliant!' she thought, as a plan began to form in her mind. She settled herself back against her propped pillows and pulled her knees up, resting the massive tome against her thighs and turning to page sixty.

Alanna barely noticed the medi-witch returning to her side, scanning her body once more with her wand.

"How are you feeling?" Poppy asked in a clipped voice.

She reluctantly looked up from the book, giving the nurse her undivided attention.

"I am mostly suffering from a headache," Alanna touched the back of her head lightly.

Madam Pomfrey left her side and returned shortly with a coral coloured vial, which she uncorked carefully before handing it to her. After quickly swallowing its contents, the tension in her head subsided to a dull throbbing before finally vanishing. Alanna regarded the witch gratefully.

"I must apologize, Madam, but I must have forgotten your name," Alanna carefully closed the book, leaving her index finger on page 231.

"I am Madam Pomfrey, dear," she said cheerily, pulling the blankets straight on Alanna's bed.

Alanna took a deep breath. "I would like to thank you, Madam Pomfrey, for taking care of me while I was incapable of doing so myself."

Poppy blinked at the girl, halting her movements. She knew that Alanna did not have frequent contact with others beside her family, but never realized how fiercely independent this young woman was. It must have been difficult for her to find herself in a situation that she was not in command of. A faint smile played around the medi-witch's lips.

"You are quite welcome, child. Now, how about a nice cold glass of pumpkin juice?" Madam Pomfrey bustled away to fetch the beverage.

Alanna sighed, and hastily turned back to the book. She had to find a remote passageway that would allow her to escape the castle without any detection.

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Hermione looked over her altered room. This morning it had been moderate in dimension with a large four-poster bed at the far end of the room. A large bay window allowed the sun to penetrate the room and emphasize the gold and burgundy colours of her house. Now, however, the room had been enlarged to roughly twice it size, many bookshelves had been added, and a second walk in closet, along with three more windows. She had to admit that while she enjoyed her single room she was amazed at how beautiful her quarters were now, including the larger bathroom that had been transfigured to allow another person to share her space. Crookshanks had already taken up residence on the brand new bed, shedding his ginger fur on Alanna's fluffy pillows.

She had dreaded meeting her head of house late last night, not sure if she and Ron would be reprimanded for being in the Hospital Wing. She never mentioned it though and had ushered Hermione into her office, offering her tea and crumpets before settling down to have a little chat with her. She could not believe her ears when the Professor had asked her to share her quarters with Alanna Flint due to the lack of room in the main girls' dormitory. Hermione could have sworn that Alanna would have been in Slytherin and not Gryffindor, but who was she to _openly_ question the decisions made by the Professors. It would also allow her to keep an eye on things, in case something happened unexpectedly.

How the 'Head Boy' would take to sharing his common room with another Gryffindor was another question. Malfoy would probably sneer at her; make horrid and lewd remarks about the two sharing a room together. Well, he could just bugger off for all Hermione cared. Professor Snape would probably inform him about these turn of events.

"Miss Granger."

Hermione turned a bit startled and looked at Professor McGonagall over her shoulder, smiling in recognition.

"Good Morning, Professor," she stepped to the side to let Minerva enter the room.

"Ah, well, this is a nice room, is it not? The Headmaster always knew how to make accommodations quite satisfactory," she smiled at her student before walking over to the unoccupied four-poster, retrieving a small box out of the depths of her robes, and shooing the disgruntled half-kneazle off the pillows.

"Hagrid has just returned with Miss Flint's belongings."

With a quick swish-and-flick Professor McGonagall enlarged the box and magically extracted its contents enlarging each article as it began floating to its rightful place. It looked like an assembly line of books, quills, clothes, and personal items that found their appropriate place around the room with in seconds. Hermione's eyes grew wide and her mouth puckered into a small 'o' as a plethora of books made their way across the room to the bookshelves.

_1001 Arabian Potions: The Turks and their Ancient Brews _

_A Cauldron and His Friend: Memoirs of a Potions Master _

_Blood Lust or Blood Letting? Blood Curdling Potions _

_Animagi – A guide to the Beast within._

_Transfiguration through the Centuries_

_The Domestication of the Magical Animal_

Those were only a few of the titles whizzing by her. She was practically salivating at the new and so obviously restricted treasure of books Alanna owned. Did she just see a book on Lust Potions fly by?

"Professor?"

Minerva did not look up from her task. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Are we allowed to have restricted books in our quarters?" Hermione hated to ask the question, but her Gryffindor honesty had taken over her urges to snatch the books from the shelves and hide with them in a small dark corner.

"Most of these books have been part of her school curriculum for the past three years. The Headmaster wanted her to feel as comfortable as possible and insisted that every book found in the vault be brought back for her. I am sure you do not object too much," Minerva graced her with a small knowing smile.

"Oh, of course not Professor," Hermione said breathily as a book entitled _Fanged Fiends and Wanton Wolves: Detection and Protection of Magical Creatures in Heat_ past her.

'What on earth had she been studying!'

"Miss Flint should be able to join you here by no later than tomorrow night. Madam Pomfrey would like to watch her for another few hours before making her decision on releasing her." With another flick, the empty box vanished leaving behind the last and most important of Alanna's possessions; her long, ebony wand, which she placed on her nightstand before turning.

"I am sure that all of Gryffindor will accept her as one of their own in no time. It will be your duty as Head Girl to assure that the transition will be a smooth one. I have full trust in your abilities, Miss Granger. I will see you later in class," she smiled at her charge and strode out of the room.

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_BOOM_!

Severus leapt up from his desk at the head of the class and swooped down on the offending student, whose cauldron obliterated itself into a bubbling mass of black metal with green streaks of potion. The mess had the rest of the students scrambling as it dripped down the stone topped table, hissing madly as it connected with the cool surface of the floor.

"Mr. Longbottom," he hissed venomously, reserving that extra special sneer for the schools worst dunderhead, "what was the last ingredient that you added to your cauldron."

It was not a question, but a deadly statement that Neville really did not want to answer. How in world he had made it into Snape's N.E.W.T level class he would never know, but since the beginning of term there had been one disaster after another.

"I..t-think it w-w-was the ground M-Mamba f-fangs, sir," he hated that little stutter that only materialized when faced with the most vicious of Professors.

With a wave of his hand, Severus divested the area of the noxious substance and bits of cauldron, his stare never leaving the young man, or quivering mass, sitting before him.

"Why do I even bother with you, Longbottom?" His voice was soft and deadly, the kind that the students learned to fear the most. Neville knew better than to interrupt him and only stared with wide eyes as his professor leaned over the table.

"The next time you blow up your potion, kindly direct the deadly spray toward yourself. I am sick and tired trying to aid you in your botched attempts at passing this class. If you do not improve tenfold over the next week, I will not be held responsible for what will happen to you Mr. Longbottom. Now, if you do not leave my class in less than five seconds you will not only get a detention tonight with Mr. Filch, but will lose a very obscene number of house points as well."

Neville did not have to be told twice as he grabbed his bag and stumbled quickly out of the classroom, hurrying past Hermione, Ron, and Harry who regarded him with sympathetic looks.

Severus returned his attention to the rest of the class, who were carefully reseating themselves in their assigned places, nobody meeting his eye.

"Bottle and label your potions, then get out of my sight!" Severus was rubbing the bridge of his nose in annoyance. The scurrying feet of his students, like rats, the only sound to assault the silence. Within minutes, he had been left in blissful silence, his thoughts once again his own.

If he would not have been so preoccupied with the occurrences of late, he would have been able to spot Longbottom's mistake fifteen minutes ago. All of this could have been prevented if Dumbledore would have let him interrogate the girl!

His clenched fist hit the cherry wood surface of his desk with a hard thump. Dumbledore did not realize that he knew the Flint family's dark little secrets. Granted he did not know about _this_ well kept secret, but he did know a few things about Farrell Flint the Death Eater. As much as he hated to admit it, he would have to have another conversation with Lucius about the turn of events. Soon, no doubt, he would be summoned once more, in which the Dark Lord needed to be kept up to date on the proceedings at the school.

The main question he was asking himself over and over again, however, was what _else_ Farrell had kept from him and the others. Keeping an eye on his supposed spawn should hopefully be a fruitful endeavor.

With a snarl that could have rivaled Gryffindor's own he rose gracefully from his chair and strode soundlessly into his study. Lunch would be spent with a large bottle of Ogden's and some hangover potion.

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A few hours past since the last time someone had come to check on her. Madam Pomfrey left her with that glass of juice and promised a real meal a little later. Thank Merlin for that! Her stomach was loudly protesting as it was, and she was becoming just a little faint from the lack of nourishment.

Alanna laid the book down and reviewed what she had learned. Supposedly, there is a passageway down in the dungeon area that would lead to the outskirts of the 'Forbidden Forest', a wooded area behind the castle. From there, she could transfigure an object into a broom and figure out how to get home. It would of course be easiest just to charm something into a portkey, but her father had always warned her of what might happen if an illegal portkey were found in her possession. There only seemed one problem with the whole plan.

She needed her wand.

Something had happened to it and she needed it back before implementing her escape. Perhaps if she asked Madam Pomfrey for it…

The doors to the Infirmary opened and distracted Alanna from her musings. She could hear the unmistakable sounds of high-heeled shoes hitting the floor, and a rush of chattering. She recognized one of the voices as that of the Headmaster's; the other, however, she did not. She mentally braced herself for the encounter.

"…but then you know how Arthur is. He just adores those muggle inventions. He has this abnormal fascination with something called a 'buggery alarm'. It is a small device that acts as an equivalent to our wards, alerting muggles when..."

Alanna watched a short, plump, kind-faced woman walk around the screen with the Headmaster in tow; both wore smiles, and Alanna's heart froze a few beats. This must be…

"Good afternoon, Miss Flint. I would like to introduce to you Mrs. Molly Weasley."

Alanna swallowed forcibly and inclined her eyes and head in a motion of greeting. Her attention however did not linger on the woman, as she refocused her attention to the Headmaster.

"Did you bring what I requested, sir?" Her voice was quiet, but forceful.

Mrs. Weasley shifted her gaze at the Headmaster in question, while he continued to smile and remove a piece of parchment from his robes, handing it to Alanna.

With trembling hands, she received it, unfolding the many pieces of parchment carefully. She thought she would loose the tight rein on her emotions when she read the first sentence.

_I, Farrell Flint, being of sound mind and body_…

"On which page is it?" Her voice was about to fail her as well. Blast these fragile emotions!

"I believe on page four," he said gravely.

She quickly turned to said page and read it closely, her eyes widening as she studied the passage on her guardianship. All of her family's possessions were to be placed under the care of her guardians, including her well-being and that of any of her offspring, should there be any. Alanna groaned.

'What had father been thinking!'

In a final attempt to disprove the claim, she turned to the last page of the document. Her father's flourished signature greeted her eyes, the family seal branded into the yellowed paper. It was true then.

Alanna looked up at the Headmaster with tired eyes.

"Mrs. Weasley has agreed to become your guardian, Miss Flint."

"Headmaster, I do not mean any disrespect to your or Mrs. Weasley, but I do want to mention my deep concern about leaving my family's inheritance in the hands of a woman that I have never met in my entire life." She would not say any more on this subject, her mind already churned with the possibilities of escape. She would contact her father's estate barristers as soon as she arrived home.

Dumbledore sighed heavily and pierced her with a stare. He knew she was a strong willed young woman, but her demeanor strongly reminded him of his Potions Master. Interesting. _Very_ interesting.

"I understand your concern, child. It is not your decision, unfortunately, it has been mine," his voice was kind, but Alanna could hear the edge beneath it.

She lowered her gaze once more and nodded. She did not care either way this discussion was going.

Mrs. Weasley had been uncomfortable during this entire exchange and took matters into her own hands.

"The Headmaster tells me that you are an only child, Alanna." Mrs. Weasley pulled a chair to the side of her bed and sat looking at her expectantly.

"Yes, Madam," her answer was short and devoid of emotion.

"Now that you are part of our family you are the happy recipient of six brothers and one sister. Actually, I believe you will be going to attend classes with my youngest son, Ronald," Mrs. Weasley prattled on excitedly.

Alanna blinked. Brothers and Sisters! She needed to get out of here and fast! Thankfully, her stomach took the opportunity to grumble loudly distracting her guardian from her description of her _seven_ children.

Mrs. Weasley gasped. "When is the last time you had something to eat, Alanna?"

Alanna held her offending belly in an attempt to quiet it down. "A very long time ago, it seems."

As if she had spoken magic words, Mrs. Weasley got up from her chair in a flash and began calling for house-elves to bring her some sustenance. Madam Pomfrey, hearing the small commotion in her ward joined the little gathering before Alanna's bed.

"What in the world is going on down here?" Poppy was trying hard not to use her stern voice with Molly.

"Poppy, I am trying to get this child some food. She has not eaten in Merlin knows how long," Molly bristled at the medi-witch before taking a tray with some broth from the waiting house-elf. "Thank you, Dobby."

"The reason she has not eaten yet is due to the copious amount of potions we had to administer," Poppy was irritated at this point.

"Her stomach sounds fine to me," Molly placed the tray on Alanna's lap and laid the heavy book on the nightstand next to her. "Eat up child, perhaps you can have a piece of fruit when you finish."

Alanna did not care if the adults were squabbling or, not. All she cared about was the hot liquid that coated her throat and slid down into her grateful stomach. She could not remember soup tasting this delicious. Hunger truly is the best seasoning.

Between spoonfuls, Alanna addressed the next issue at hand.

"Madam Pomfrey? Is there a way that I could maybe sleep in another bed tonight? These are probably not as comfortable as the beds in the dormitories."

Madam Pomfrey took her eyes off Mrs. Weasley and regarded her charge critically. She was not in danger any more, but she was still a little pale and had those dark circles beneath her eyes.

Dumbledore, who had been watching the exchange between the women with veiled amusement, answered her question.

"I do not see a problem with that Miss Flint," he said good-naturedly.

"I believe that would be my decision, am I not correct Headmaster?" Madam Pomfrey spat ungracefully.

"Of course Poppy, by all means, if you think she is not ready to move into Miss Granger's quarters, then I will of course yield to your decision," he said amicably.

"Miss Flint, if you keep down your lunch I will excuse you to your dormitory tonight. I would like to see you in the morning, however, before classes. Now, if you would excuse me," Madam Pomfrey turned to take her leave with an affronted look.

Alanna swallowed her last spoonful and quickly dabbed at her mouth with her napkin before hastily calling back the nurse, who had taken several steps toward her office.

"Madam Pomfrey?" Poppy turned and regarded Alanna thoughtfully.

"Could you perhaps tell me what exactly the extent of my injuries was? We have never discussed it and I was wondering…" Alanna watched Madam Pomfrey's eyes change from stern to strained.

"Of course, dear, I should have told you earlier. Overall, you arrived here after being hit by at least six curses that we could identify. You were also covered in glass shards drove into your skin when you came through one of the windows in the Great Hall, not to mention the multitude of internal bleeding and broken bones that I had to repair," Poppy stopped herself and regarded the pale young woman forcibly clasping her hands in her lap.

"What kinds of curses?" Alanna asked quietly.

"Mostly Slicing Hexes, a fairly strong Blood Boiling Curse, and…two Unforgivables," Poppy said matter-of-factly.

Alanna was beginning to get upset again trying to pull every tidbit of information out of the medi-witch. "_Which_ Unforgivables, Madam?"

Poppy sighed audibly. "If you _must_ insist, they were the Cruciatus and the Killing curses."

Alanna blinked. Then blinked again.

"Someone tried to kill me?"

It felt like a bubble at first. A small bubble that crept up from her diaphragm in an attempt to make it past her vocal chords. Her breathing became a little laboured as she tried to hold her stomach and not fall off the bed at the same time.

Mrs. Weasley was the first to take in Alanna's condition. "Poppy, do something for Merlin's sake! The girl is going to be ill!"

Before the medi-witch could react, Alanna broke out in peals of laughter that soon grew to hysteric shrieks that rivaled Peeves manic attempts at humor.

Very much stumped Dumbledore, Mrs. Weasley, and Madam Pomfrey watched her become quite red in the face, until big tears began streaming down her cheeks.

"Albus, I do believe I will take the child home with me," Mrs. Weasley looked utterly shocked at the display before her.

Alanna heard the exclamation through her hysterics induced haze and shook her head a little to keep the demons at bay. If Mrs. Weasley took her from Hogwarts, she would not be able to make a clean escape. "No, no…Mrs. Weasley…I am so sorry. I have just been a bit overwhelmed by everything," she took a huge, steadying breath and swiped at her face to rid herself of the wet streaks marring her pale skin, fanning it lightly.

"It is just…a bit of a shock, really. I…have never been part of a plot before. Up until three days ago I lived a happy existence with…" she wanted to say 'her parents' put could not make herself say the words.

Mrs. Weasley stepped up to the bed and patted her hand lightly before handing her a polka-dotted handkerchief, which she thankfully accepted. "There, there now. Of course you are distraught! We will have to do what we can to keep you busy, is that not right Headmaster?" She pointedly looked over her shoulder at Dumbledore, who nodded slowly with a smile on his lips.

"And that would be best accomplished by meeting a few new peers. You have my permission to sleep in your dormitory tonight, Miss Flint," Albus actually managed to say this sentence in one breath before he was interrupted by a loud 'humph' from the medi-witch.

"Brilliant! Let a mentally unstable young woman loose in the castle, and do not listen to me. I warn you, however, that I am washing my hands of this matter as of now," with those words Poppy left for the sanctuary of her office.

"I resent that!" Alanna responded grumpily. She was less insane than everyone else surrounding her.

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Author's Note: Ok, my lovely's, here it is! I do want to tell you that I have been writing A LOT lately thanks to my muse and inspiration PinkCorsair, who has sportingly been wielding the writing whip. Also, special thanks to my beta MysticSong, girl you know I adore you! This is the first part of a REALLY long chapter, don't fret Sev and Alanna are meeting shortly.

I have noticed that my reviews have been slowly dwindling. It's probably because my updates have been getting a bit..errr..few and far between, BUT Pink has me sitting and writing just about every day now (without food or water). SO PLEASE I BEG YOU, the review button is down to your left. Use it!


	13. Welcome to Hogwarts Pt 2

**Potions: What would a Girl Do without It?**

**By Slave4Severus**

**Disclaimer: I still do not own any of J.K.R. characters. Even though I wish I did.**

"That greasy old wanker!"

"Ronald Weasley!"

"Oh, come off it Hermione! You saw how he treated Neville."

"He is a Professor, Ron. You are a Prefect and should treat the staff accordingly. What kind of example do you think you are setting for the younger years?"

"They will think how handsomely roguish I am, braving to defile the name of the pasty Dungeon Demon."

Both Hermione and Harry stopped in the hall and stared at their friend before they both began laughing at his antics.

"Don't hurt yourself, Ron, that was the longest grammatically correct sentence you have ever used," Harry was still laughing and held onto Hermione for support.

"Sod off, mate," Ron grumbled without malice, his eyes dancing with merriment, as he elbowed the shorter boy in the ribs. The three friends resumed their way to the Great Hall in search of their evening sustenance.

"So, Hermione, are we still on for tonight then?" Harry took a sideways glance at his friend, pushing his hands deep into the pockets of his grey slacks.

"Yes, Alanna is going to be coming within the next day or so. We should be ok for tonight," Hermione said the latter as quietly as possible, casting glances around them.

"You want both of us up there?" Ron had never been in the Head Girls room and was excited at the mere thought.

"All or nothing, right?" Hermione smiled at the two.

"So, err, what you got in mind?" Ron's voice lowered itself into a deep rumble, as he attempted to raise one of his fiery brows.

"Ron! You cannot possible have questions!" Harry rolled his eyes at him and grinned like a loon.

"I have more experience than you, Harry!"

"You most definitely do not."

"I grew up with five brothers, which is enough experience to last a lifetime."

"Then why do you have to ask?" Harry challenged with a laugh.

"As lovely as this is, _gentlemen_, we have a rough evening ahead of us. So, let us get some food and continue with this discussion privately in the confines of my room…" she regarded them with a stern look that put both young men in line with faint blushes. "And whatever we do, it will have to be done as quietly as possible," she gave Ron a pregnant stare.

"What?" His forehead wrinkled at her accusingly.

"Just…do not scream, alright?"

"What are you on about? I have never screamed doing that!"

"Yes, you have. Remember, in the library at Snuffles house?"

"I did not scream…it was a manly yelp!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Whatever we do tonight. I am in charge, understand? My room, my rules."

"Who made you the authority on going through peoples stuff?" Ron grumbled sullenly.

"Since it is my room and my new roommate," she retorted tartly before turning to enter the Great Hall.

All three made their way to the head of the Gryffindor table, Ron and Harry taking their seats and helping themselves to the abundance the house-elves had to offer. Hermione slid off her heavy Rucksack and was about to sit before she was interrupted.

"Miss Granger, could I have a minute please?" Professor McGonagall turned and let Hermione follow her to a quieter spot in the Hall.

"Miss Granger, I have just been informed that Miss Flint will be joining you tonight after all. The Headmaster wishes you to introduce her to your fellow Gryffindors, be advised that she has had a very tumultuous few days. Please, do not have them pester her about her arrival here. We are to show her support and strength as we would our own, you will fetch her after you partake of your dinner. I have full trust in your abilities, my dear."

"Of course, Professor," Hermione watched the her leave and resumed her seat at the head of her house table.

" E'ything 'right 'ermione?" Ron spat through his mashed potatoes.

She sighed at the turn of events. "It seems that she will be with us sooner than we thought."

Harry looked up at her before letting his gaze wander over the assembled teachers in their respective seats. The Headmaster was smiling at his students before leaning over to the side to talk to Professor McGonagall. A movement at the end of the staff table caught his eye and he took his attention from the Headmaster and his Head of House to the sullen Potions Master. He looked grimmer than usual with his greasy hair hanging halfway in his soup. Was that snarling he saw?

"Guys, look at Snape," Harry said under his breath.

"Professor Snape, Harry…" Hermione's response died on her lips as she and Ron both watched their Professor grimace in pain in the shadow of his black hair. Anger masked his features as he quickly pushed his chair back and strode from the Hall, via the side door he often exited.

"What was that all about?" Ron asked after having swallowed half a chicken leg in one bite.

"Looked like a summoning to me," Harry mumbled while rubbing his dully throbbing scar.

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Hermione excused herself from her friends and made her way up the staircases to the Infirmary, passing the yapping Hufflepuff painting. She could hear a faint 'Heel, Haggis!' as the Scotsman tried to keep his dog from running to the other paintings surrounding their common room. A few students laughing at its antics, while waiting patiently to be admitted into their dormitory.

She rounded the corner and walked down the deserted, and thankfully silent, hall to the infirmary, her shoes thudding softly against the stone floor. She wondered how Alanna was going to take to being thrust into Gryffindor house and room, probably for the very first time, with another girl, especially a muggle-born girl. She could vividly remember her kin, Marcus Flint, taunting her during her first few years at school about her appearance and performance at school. She hated meeting him in the halls during classes or in the evenings when she had to pass entrance to the dungeons in order to return to her own dormitory. He was in a different class than Malfoy, not cocky and slick in that upper-class superior sort of way, but sinister and foreboding. At the time, she did not realize what he had been insinuating with his 'avoid dark places, Granger, because if I find you they will search for weeks.' The gossip had not reached her ears yet about the dungeon having supposed torture chambers, but as a seventh year she had heard and investigated the allegations. Thankfully, they were only rumors, spread to intimidate the younger years and…Muggleborn. If Malfoy would have said this to her though she would not have been as concerned; Marcus Flint belonged in a category of evil by itself. Hermione shivered involuntarily.

She only hoped that Alanna had more brains than a dead tree stump. If her cousin's grades were any indication, she could use all the help she could get.

Hermione arrived at the double doors and gave them a tentative knock. Madam Pomfrey's booming voice surrounded her instantaneously.

"State your name and form of malady."

"Hermione Granger here to pick up Miss Flint."

The door opened itself. "You may enter."

Hermione quietly walked through the double doors spotting Madam Pomfrey holding a fresh change of clothes for one of her patients.

"I trust you are fairing well, Miss Granger?" Madam Pomfrey studied her profile as she approached.

"Yes, Madam," she answered politely and followed the medi-witch toward the familiar privacy screen at the back of the hall.

"Miss Flint will be ready shortly, if you would like to wait here, Miss Granger," the nurse clipped shortly and turned yet again to walk around the screen. Hermione felt a bit odd listening to their conversation that carried over to where she was standing.

"Miss Flint, here are your new robes that you will have to wear while at school."

"Thank you Madam Pomfrey," the voice said meekly, while the rustling of sheets and clothes followed.

"Will you need any assistance with that?"

"No, thank you, I believe I can manage with it, uhm, what do you call this?"

"It is a tie, Miss Flint, a standard part of your school robes, to be worn daily."

"What is the purpose of it?" the voice sounded genuinely interested in the particular article of clothing. Hermione wondered who could _not_ know what a tie was.

"The tie is form of neckwear consisting of a long narrow piece of material worn under a collar and tied in knot at the front, effectively presenting your house colours to teachers and classmates," Madam Pomfrey sounded a bit stern.

"Is it like jewelry?" Alanna asked a bit too brightly.

"No, jewelry is not allowed at Hogwarts. The tie is part of everyone's uniform."

A bit more swishing of material could be heard before Madam Pomfrey spoke again.

"Alright, Miss Flint, you are to report back here tomorrow morning before breakfast. I want you to drink a lot of fluids tonight and drink these two potions. One is a sleeping draught and the other a strengthening potion to be taken within fifteen minutes of the other. The Headmaster has requested that you are to room with our Head Girl, Miss Granger, for your duration here. She has come to take you to Gryffindor tower; Miss Granger?"

Hermione moved to step around the screen, hoping that Alanna would not recognize her from the night before. If Madam Pomfrey would suspect anything, she could still get into a heap of trouble. She regarded the new Gryffindor with curiosity.

She looked much healthier than last night. Sleep had done her a world of good, Hermione thought to herself as she walked up to her and held out her right hand in greeting.

"Hello. I am Hermione Granger."

Alanna regarded the girl warily. The first girl she had met that was around her age, and her defenses had come up very quickly. That nagging little voice in her head had reared in alarm at the sight of her, warning Alanna not to let her get too closely. She took a deep breath and squashed the bloody voice with a mental kick, reaching for Hermione's hand and giving it a firm shake.

"I am Alanna Flint, the pleasure is all mine," a shy smile graced her lips.

Hermione had watched her features take on the usual Slytherin mask of indifference as she stared down at her outstretched hand. She was about to awkwardly retreat when Alanna placed her cold hand in hers for a rather firm handshake, her smile seeming genuine.

"Alright then, I have to see to my other patients. I will see you tomorrow, Miss Flint. Good night, ladies," Madam Pomfrey strode to the other side of the ward, both girls looking after her.

Hermione was the first to speak.

"How are you feeling?" They both turned and began walking.

"I have felt better," short and to the point.

They exited the infirmary quietly.

"Are there any questions that I could answer for you about Hogwarts?" Hermione wanted to end the uncomfortable silence.

"Were you at my bed last night?" Alanna stopped and gazed knowingly at her new acquaintance.

Hermione flushed a little, not knowing what to tell her. She was only thankful that Alanna did not say anything while around the medi-witch.

"Oh, please, I did not try to embarrass you. I wanted to thank you for uhm…giving me aid when I needed it," Alanna really looked at the Head Girl. She had the most amazing head of hair she had ever seen, full of beautiful, sleek, corkscrew curls, which framed her face. The rest of her features were not far behind; very pretty seemed to be an understatement here. "I hope that little Won is doing alright," the poor little house elf probably had bandages all over his arms and/or face.

Hermione blinked. "Won?" Then it dawned on her. "Oh, you mean Ron?"

"Yes, the little house elf who helped me with my water. He seemed nice. Do you own many house elves?" They had resumed walking again.

Hermione wanted nothing more than to start talking about S.P.E.W., but refrained from becoming too overzealous. Alanna should not be taxed with too many things at once; the idea however had been filed for a more appropriate time. "No, I do not," was her answer instead. "Ron, is actually not a house elf. He is one of my best friends who was with me last night.

It was now Alanna's turn to become a bit red. How could she have made that type of mistake? "I am so sorry to offend a friend of yours. I had thought that he was doing your bidding the way you were commanding him to do so. I had no idea that he was just a very short person."

Hermione stopped and began laughing at the thought of Ron being a 'short' person. "Oh, no you did not offend me. Actually, I will introduce you to Ron and Harry, my other best friend, when we reach our common room."

Alanna shivered a little; she was not used to meeting strangers on a daily basis, however, Hermione seemed nice enough. Her trepidation rose a couple of notches, as they approached the area close to one of the dormitories. She forgot, which house it was, but the crush of students that littered before the portrait made her more than uneasy. If she could have blended into the wall, she would have.

'Alanna! Flint's never cower!' Her father's voice sternly boomed within the confines of her mind. She stiffened her spine and serenely walked forward into the unknown.

Hermione watched her from the corner of her eye. She knew that most of the fourth and fifth year Hufflepuffs that were having an impromptu after dinner conversation in front of the very empty canvas guarding the common room. The first audible sounds of their light footfalls coming down the hall silenced the lot of them. Now, Hermione was coolly regarding a handful of speechless ninnies.

"Good Evening," she said politely, pinning each with a patented 'I am watching you' stare.

Some students gave the two girls a tentative smile while others just continued staring, a select few displaying rather formidable traps as they gaped open-mouthed.

'Stay calm, Alanna. Just…act… as if you do this every day.'

Oh, whom was she attempting to fool here! The thought of being around so many strange people scared the living daylights out of her. Alanna stiffened her spine, lifted her chin, and as calmly as possible walked by the staring crowd; she could feel their gazes burning into her back.

"What, in Merlin's name, are they staring at?" Alanna asked quietly through her teeth.

"You, of course."

Alanna blinked and looked sideways at Hermione.

"Are you serious?"

"Quite."

A small smile played around Hermione's lips as they continued walking toward the main staircases. Alanna frowned, not pleased at all at the turn the conversation had taken.

"Well, I hope they were the only ones to do so," she clipped softly.

"I would not count on that."

As Alanna looked back at Hermione with a furrowed brow, she had not noticed stepping into the main bowels of Hogwarts castle. She watched Hermione glance upward in awe and finally tore her gaze from the witch to see for herself what had her so mesmerized.

The sheer magnitude of what she saw astounded her. Alanna looked up into a seemingly ceiling-less tower filled with gigantic staircases, which moved on their own volition, connecting with other staircases or to doors that were not accessible by any other mean. Before she could utter an appraising sound, however, loud creaking sounds echoed throughout the tower and the stairs ceased their movement in mid ascent and decent. The entire scene was bathed in an eerie silence and stillness.

That is when she saw them.

Hermione had been correct in telling her that she would encounter others staring. Just not how many.

There were at least a thousand portraits hanging at various angles throughout the tower, and all of them were staring down on her; the same enraptured look upon their painted faces as the human ones had.

Within two breathless seconds, the whispering commenced. At first a soft ripple of sound originating somewhere to her left, which traveled in a spiral swirl to the top of the tower; its volume increasing in waves.

Alanna was not sure if she should laugh or pinch herself soundly in order to wake from this nightmare. Thankfully, Hermione moved toward the nearest flight and began walking upward, un-phased by it all.

Alanna followed.

Two steps later, the tower returned to its flurry of activity, subduing the whispers to a bearable decibel.

"I hope there is a really good explanation for all of this," Alanna grumbled as she caught up with Hermione.

"I suppose it is called flying on a broom through a window that is about fourteen feet tall and protected by the Hogwarts' wards. You do realize that something like this has never happened before," Hermione looked at her quizzically as the flight they were standing on moved upward to the fourth floor.

Alanna shuddered. "The second I remember why I entered through a window instead of the main entrance, I shall let you know."

Hermione looked at her with smiling eyes but said nothing while she turned to approach the next set of stairs leading further up into the tower. A yellow-blond blur approached the duo from a dark passage to their left. Without a moments hesitation Hermione pulled her wand from the confines of her black robes, pointing it stealthily at a rather disheveled looking girl, as she emerged from the shadows.

Alanna regarded her with mild curiosity. The girl looked as if she had a run in with some brambles, her hair falling from her ponytail in blond wisps sticking out at odd angles. Her face was flushed, probably from the vigorous run she had just enjoyed coming down the dark corridor. What Alanna could not figure out however, was the unnatural red tint her lips had. Red and puffy. The wistful smirk that had graced said lips had vanished the second she laid eyes on Hermione. Now, her features had darkened into a cold and calculating frown, as she looked her up and down.

"Granger," the girl snarled while folding her arms before her chest.

"Parkinson," Hermione responded coolly. "Should you not be patrolling the halls after dinner?"

"What does it look like I am doing?" Parkinson said defiantly and stepped closer toward them. She had yet to acknowledge Alanna.

"Looks like you were just snogging that perverted arse, you call a

boyfriend." Hermione stepped closer as well, holding her wand leisurely between her fingers.

"Jealous, Mudblood?" Parkinson smiled knowingly and brushed the hair from her face.

Alanna looked at Hermione with more interest. She was a Mudblood? Wow. A real one? She wondered what it was like…

"Five points from Slytherin for your insult, Pansy. Now, if you want to keep your Prefect badge I suggest you get moving and patrol," Hermione narrowed her eyes and twirled her wand expertly, only too happy to give Pansy a taste of its pointy end.

"Or what?" Pansy looked at Alanna for the first time from tip to toe. "Your Gryffindor lackey will personally take it from me? You are so lame, Granger."

Hermione's look became pure ice as she took another step toward the Parkinson girl. "Do you really want to find out, Pansy? Are you truly convinced that you can wrap yourself in a cloak of confidence? Draco will not always be there to cover for your transgressions."

Alanna watched the two girls stare at each other.

"I am perfectly capable of fighting my own battles, Granger," her eyes narrowed at both of them, as her chin rose a few notches. Her own wand had materialized from within the folds of her cloak.

"As much as I am enjoying this ladies…" both sets of eyes turned to look at Alanna… "I would like to be directed to Gryffindor tower before I get my eyebrows scorched in the skirmish. If one of you would be so kind as to point the way, I shall leave you to it."

Pansy was the first to speak, her tone of voice less than friendly. "Who did you say you were?"

Alanna bristled. "I did not say."

Her eyebrow went up at the nonchalant answer. "Would you care to display some manners and enlighten me then?"

Hermione watched the very Slytherin exchange between the two. Pansy had begun to walk toward Alanna, circling her with appraising eyes. Alanna on the other hand stood rooted, although her eyes never left the blonds movements, even tossing her an over the shoulder glance as her back was turned.

"If you must know, it is Flint. Alanna Flint. Now, if you would excuse us," Alanna looked at Hermione before turning her back and stepping up the next flight of stairs.

"Flint?" Pansy's face scrunched up in confusion. "As in Marcus Flint?" Alanna, however, was already out of earshot to have heard.

"That seems to be the assumption," Hermione supplied as she regarded Pansy, their little spat put on hold for now.

"She does not really _look_ like Flint though."

"Thank heavens for small mercies," Hermione said heartfelt and followed Alanna up the stairs, leaving a thoughtful Pansy in her wake.

Pansy was certain that she would have remembered her parents mentioning another child in the Flint family, especially after their attempts to secure her betrothal to that hideous creature they called heir. Thankfully, they had been approached by Lucius Malfoy and had accepted his suit without any reservations. So, either there is a long lost sister of Flint's running around, or the girl was lying through her perfectly chiseled teeth. She had to find Draco and discuss this with him, especially since a Flint had been sorted into Gryffindor.

Pansy turned and quickly walked back down the darkened corridor to search for Draco in the old charms classroom. Hopefully, he had not been able to right his clothes properly in the past ten minutes. The boy was just too vain for his own good.

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Severus quickly made his way down into his dungeons, his forearm bearing the mark throbbing with the Dark Lord's summons. He had realized after his social calls at the Malfoy and Avery residences that a summoning would be upon him within a few short days. He quickly walked down the stairs and was thankful that he did not encounter any of his students in the hallways. Fortunately, it had only been his dinner to have been interrupted, not that he had been eating much to begin with.

He quickly whispered his password and entered his personal chambers, removing his outer robes with deft movements, a pair of eyes not his own following his every move. Within seconds he had summoned his cloak and mask from his bedroom and donned the one and hid the other in its folds. Another stab of pain seared through his arm telling him of his master's impatience. Severus growled in the back of his throat and quickly exited his rooms, entering a hidden passageway seconds later. His long strides echoed through the small space with a force that even the puddles of moisture could not subdue.

Nature greeted him with a rush of fresh air and a fine mist from the surrounding fog. He gritted his teeth and made his way into the Forbidden Forest to an apparition point. Severus knew that he would probably not be spared the Cruciatus tonight; he would, however, find out more about Alanna Flint. His lips curled in an evil sneer before he hid it behind his mask. For once, he was looking forward to a summoning. With a quick flick of his arm, he exposed his burning flesh and touched the offending mark, apparating once again into the unknown.

His feet connected with a grassy knoll. With practiced movements, he scanned his surroundings and found the gathering a few hundred paces to his right in a rather large field. A soft pop behind him announced another of the Dark Lord's minions, forcing him into motion. The second cloaked figure caught up with his strides.

"Severus."

Severus smirked. "Lucius."

Both men were silent as they approached their kneeling brothers, both regarding Voldemort with watchful eyes. The Dark Lord was highly irritated going by the body language of his familiar. Nagini slithered menacingly between the ranks, never leaving the five-foot vicinity of her master. With practiced stealth both men kneeled before him and kissed the hem of his dark cloak, waiting to be called back into the ranks. He did not however.

"Severus, Lucius. Your tardiness displeases me. _Crucio_!"

Snape felt as if hot needles pierced every cell inside his body. He wanted to fall to the ground and scream. Yet he was a proud man, who was not going to loose his dignity in front of a sadistic lunatic. He remained on his knees clutching his fists together so hard that his nails pierced the skin. When the pain subsided he took a deep breath and looked at the Dark Lord; he knew he had only been warming up.

Voldemort turned from them and walked around the clearing staring at each masked follower with his penetrating red slits for eyes.

"I have been disappointed by each of you," Voldemort said softly, the s's in his speech standing out even more than usual.

"A Death Eater is the most feared individual in the Wizarding World. Death and destruction follow in their wake to please their one Lord and Master. Me," Voldemort pivoted and approached the head of the circle.

"How does it come to pass, then, that I have been made a fool of by my own? How is it…" his wand pointed into the crowd, "… twenty of you could not subdue a single…" gasping sounds could be heard, as one masked man began clawing at his neck in need of air, "…little…" the wand flicked and the unmistakable sound of snapping bone could be heard, "…girl!" The dead man was flung from the crowd, his broken neck being of little support for his lolling head.

The rage was coming off the Dark Lord in putrid strands, affecting everything it touched. The smell of fear crept up and permeated their midst.

Voldemort was not finished with his speech as he looked around once more. "Would one of you try to explain your actions to your Lord?" Trick question, the man was famous for them.

"No?" He rounded on the next best target. "Lucius!"

Severus watched out of the corner of his eye how the man beside him braced himself for another onslaught.

"Would you care to enlighten me how it is that from a twenty man revel, only five returned to my ranks intact?"

"I apologize, my Lord," Lucius' silky voice drawled in an attempt to placate the creature.

"If I have to wait any longer you will be _very_ sorry…" his words were hissed viciously.

"My Lord, I sent ten after the girl and ten remained at my side to take care of Farrell and his wife…"

"I have been informed that Farrell had been taken care of prior to this incidence. Are you trying to tell me that one man, who had already enjoyed a certain amount of pain, had the strength to best five of you?" Voldemort flexed his long fingers and cracked his knuckles in anticipation.

"Yes, my Lord," the answer was clipped and final. Severus waited for the storm to begin.

"Think very hard before you answer, Lucius," The Dark Lord placed the tip of his wand beneath Lucius' chin, tilting it upward, forcing him to look into the eyes of his master. "Did you kill them?"

Lucius did not falter in his answer. "Yes, my Lord."

"Where are their bodies?"

"I took the liberty of disposing them, my Lord."

The seconds rolled by as Voldemort waited for any signs of weakness.

"Where did you take them?" He did not seem convinced.

"They were left in the forest, my lord," Lucius dared to breathe, "I am sure the animals have already disposed of their bodies."

Voldemort seemed satisfied with that answer and moved out of Lucius' personal space.

"And the daughter?"

Silence.

"So, you have failed in killing her," his voice took on an edge of deadly amusement. "Where is she?"

It was now Severus' turn to be placed in the line of fire. He only hoped that he would not be punished too harshly for his concealment of the girl.

"My Lord," all eyes rested upon him.

"Severus." Deadly calm reigned.

"There has been an incident a few days prior. A girl claiming to be the daughter of Farrell Flint has arrived at Hogwarts, badly injured. The medi-witch has been in the process of healing her for several days now."

Voldemort silently walked around the two kneeling men.

"I want her brought to me alive! In what state I do not care, just bring her to me," a spray of spittle accompanied his exclamation before he lifted his wand once more and began administering his punishments.

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Author's Note: _Imperio_! Well, now that I have all of you thoroughly hexed, I would like for you to review. As I can tell at least 17 of you have gotten an alert as to my update. All 17 of you are hereby commanded to leave a review. You know you can not fight the urge…you want to press that button down there to your left, don't you. Common, don't fight it any longer…REVIEW! Oh yea, and you there who is not part of the seventeen, you will have to review as well…

Special thanks to: lucidity, who gave me the idea to hex you guys, kudos girl! Mysticsong1978 my beta, and of course the all powerful muse PinkCorsair, who is enjoying a lovely vacation right now.


	14. Welcome to Hogwarts Pt 3

**Potions: What would a Girl Do without It?**

**By Slave4Severus**

**Disclaimer: I still do not own any of J.K.R. characters. Even though I wish I did.**

"Is it much farther?" Alanna's side ached from climbing the numerous stairs, her breath hitching with every other step.

"No, this was the last staircase," Hermione answered with an annoying little spring to her step, as they walked into the deserted Gryffindor hallway.

"How do you do that every day?" Alanna gasped, trying to catch her breath in a more dignified manner than a fish would out of water.

"Oh, you get used to it, trust me. Once you begin classes and have to change out your books every few hours you will not even think about the stairs," Hermione said optimistically.

Alanna eyed the Head Girl in disbelief. Thank Merlin she would leave soon…if she found her wand that is.

A stinging sensation on her neck brought her out of her musings. Her fingers deftly began pulling at her tie in an attempt to open the first few buttons of her white shirt, instantly finding the scar and rubbing at it. The sting persisted as the two came to a stop before a huge painting of a Lady, dressed in a pink, frilly silk dress.

Hermione approached her first.

"Password?" She sounded bored stiff.

"Lion's Den," Hermione said softly. With a click, the portrait swung open to reveal something a kin to a hole in the wall, which she began to crawl through, gesturing to Alanna to follow.

Alanna raised a brow, removed her hand from her burning skin, and commenced to crawl after her. Why in the world does a castle not have a proper entryway? Do students like to clamber into their dormitory? She quickly shimmied through and stepped rather awkwardly into the Gryffindor common room.

The first thing she noticed were the colours. Red and gold…and more red. She tried not to stare at the walls too much in fear of being blinded by the brightness of it all. The circular room was littered with numerous squashy armchairs, which had one or two students in them, ranging from very young looking to about her own age. Tables had been placed all around as well, most of the occupied with studying students.

Alanna took everything in with veiled curiosity. On the inside she was bursting with questions, but her father had always stressed the value of not revealing too much of oneself. What a great opportunity to practice what she had learned. Her curiosity was dampened, however, when the students around her stopped talking, laughing, and studying to regard the new arrivals; or rather THE new arrival.

They made her feel as if she was a showpiece broomstick, on display and untouchable. Her teeth clenched and she felt hot and uncomfortable; why were they all staring!

"Attention everyone!" Hermione already held their interest since she had come through the portrait hole. "I would like for you to welcome our newest Gryffindor, Alanna Flint. She will be attending classes as a seventh year and will be staying in my chambers for the duration of the school year. So, let us welcome her in true Gryffindor fashion."

They were still staring at her. If this was the welcome, she could do without. Her face flushed crimson as her temper raised a couple of degrees. She was not an oddity to be gawked at!

"What! Why is everyone staring? Is there something wrong with my uniform perhaps?" She pulled on her tie forcefully, underlining her slightly 'rumpled from bed' look. "Or perhaps my abnormally large nose?" Her left hand made contact with her face in emphasis.

Soft laughter interrupted the ogling contest, in which all eyes shifted to its source. In an armchair close to the fire sat a young man with dark untamed hair and glasses. He was wearing quite the bemused expression as he lifted himself from his seat and walked toward her with a feline-like grace. If she would not have been so preoccupied with his glorious green eyes she would have noticed his tall and finely muscled frame, or that more than one pair of eyes switched from her to attach themselves to his black clad backside.

'Oh, sweet Merlin help me!' How does a girl prepare to meet her first guy…_ever_! Alanna could feel her hands grow a bit damp, as he extended his hand to her.

"Don't worry about this lot. They are just a little dense when it comes to meeting celebrities. I'm Harry by the way, Harry Potter," he smiled at her and…Merlin.._winked_. She had no idea what he had said…just Harry something. She had been too preoccupied with those beautiful eyes of his.

"I am sorry, what did you say your last name was Harry?" She felt as if her brain had officially left her body and was replaced with a Cornish pixie.

Most of the assembled crowed looked at Alanna as if she had grown ten heads. How could this girl not recognize Harry Potter when she saw him?

"That is quite alright. It's Harry Potter," he liked Alanna already, just for the fact that she seemed to be clueless as to who he was. A Godsend in itself.

"It is nice to meet you Harry. Alanna Flint," she took the extended hand into hers and froze. The small prickling on her neck that had been an annoyance flared up into a full stab of pain. His green eyes turned dark and fully dilated, as he sucked in his breath, clutching her hand in a vice-like grip. Her first impulse urged her to lift her hand and rub the offensive scar, this, however, was interrupted by Harry's other hand as it cocooned both of her smaller ones into his. The pain subsided instantly, as she stared at him suspiciously. The noise in the common room resumed before Alanna could step away from him.

"C'mmon Harry, you old charmer, let a man through to introduce himself," Ron said behind him. Harry stepped out of the way to give Hermione a meaningful glance before he watched Ron's newest wooing technique.

'What on Merlin's bloody head just happened!'

Alanna's eyes followed Harry as he stepped closer to Hermione's side, whispering something into her hair.

'Surely, this was not a normal occurrence when you touched a member of the opposite sex! And why does he seem so familiar? Alanna, you have absolutely lost your marbles.'

With a mental shake, she turned her attention to the next person standing before her, and instantly recognized him as the mistaken house-elf.

'Most definitely not a house elf,' she thought as her eyes kept traveling up his very tall frame, understanding why Hermione had laughed at her concerns earlier. He towered at least two heads above her and wore a roguishly beautiful smile. His hair was a fiery red that barely grazed his shoulders with piercing blue eyes that twinkled merrily. With a gallant swoop, he caught hold of her right hand and lifted it to his full lips, trailing soft kisses on her knuckles. With a small knowing smile, he turned her hand and began kissing her rapidly beating pulse on her wrist. Merlin! This school was full of sultry, good-looking men! How do the girls study with these…distractions?

"You are much taller than I thought," 'Oh, Merlin, Alanna shut your mouth!'

Ron chuckled lightly at her declaration, sending a rush of hot breath over her skin. "I'm Ronald Weasley, best friend to Harry and Hermione. Would you like a tour of the tower?"

Before she could say anything, he had already placed her hand into the crook of his arm.

Alanna hoped that the blush creeping up into her cheeks would go unnoticed. Therefore, she said the first thing that came to her mind.

"Weasley…Weasley….I believe I met your mother today," Alanna must have said the wrong thing, for she felt the thickly corded muscles in his arm tighten.

"You did? I hope she did not embarrass us…" he did not finish his sentence.

"Ronald Weasley! You better think twice before you insult our mother!" Another red head approached her, placing her hands firmly on her hips and glaring just as Mrs. Weasley had earlier.

"May I introduce my sister, Ginny."

Alanna offered her hand in greeting. "It is a pleasure to meet you. Your mother has spoken highly of you," yea well, she actually had not; however, good manners were important at all times.

Ginny frowned at her brother one last time before gracing Alanna with another beautiful Weasley smile. "Mum told me that you would be coming up here. She was so excited to welcome you into our family."

Before Alanna could respond, Ron jumped as if stung by a tarantula.

"_WHAT_!"

"Did you even listen to me at dinner Ron? Mum and Dad are Alanna's guardians now. She is officially part of the Weasley clan," she said cheerily, choosing not to notice both Ron and Alanna wincing simultaneously. Ginny sealed Ron's fate with a heart felt, "I always wanted a sister."

"Oh, bugger!" He said under his breath.

"What was that?" Both girls looked up at him, as Harry tried to conceal his laughter, only to earn a cuff in the arm from a stern looking Hermione.

"I said 'I could just hugg'er," a bad save, but a save nonetheless.

"Would you like to take a seat Alanna? I know that you must be exhausted," Hermione untangled her from Ron's grasp and ushered her to where Harry had been sitting only moments earlier, gladly lowering herself into the quite comfortable armchair. Yes, it was red, but she could look beyond that right now, she was more interested in the show of friendship between the four of them. Hermione had settled down in a chair to her right, while Harry draped himself on its arm leaning over the top of the wingback, just as a cat would. Ginny and Ron were sitting on the luscious (red) carpet, stretching their long limbs as they bickered in a familiar way. As fascinating as she found them, she could not help wishing she were back at home. The thought of friendship was so foreign it scared her a little.

Harry's voice pulled back from her thoughts. "So, Alanna, what is your favorite subject?" He was absentmindedly twirling a lock of Hermione's hair around his finger and regarding her with interest.

"I am not sure actually. I suppose Care of Magical creatures is one of them," she thought for a moment, nibbling on her bottom lip, "…and Potions. That subject has fascinated me for a long time now," her face took on a slightly dreamy look, as she thought about her laboratory at home. That muscle relaxant oil sounded heavenly right about now…

Ron swallowed heavily, watching Alanna suck in her lower lip and scrunching her pert little nose in thought. He suppressed a groan. He didn't need another bloody sister! He would go insane during the holidays knowing that she would take showers only two doors down and change into her clothes only ONE down. Merlin knew he was doomed to wake up with hard-pressed problems for the rest of the school year.

"Well, I hope you don't lose your interest for it while you are here. The professor is a right git, that one."

'Great Ron! Wow the lady with putting down Snape.' Ron could have kicked himself.

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron and looked back at Alanna. "Professor Snape has a brilliant mind, Alanna. There is much to learn from a man who is a Master of Potions, and if you enjoy the subject you will be pleasantly surprised."

Both Ron and Ginny laughed heartily at her declaration. Ginny because she was truly amused at the statement, and Ron to cover up his faux pas and subsequent nervousness.

"Of course you will love it, if you are a Slytherin. However, Alanna is in Gryffindor and will probably have to pay for that offense with the loss of points and a sizable dent in her ego," Ginny said between snickers.

"Do you think he will give her 'the speech'?" Ron asked the group followed by another bout of giggles.

Harry smiled as well, agreeing with the two that it would be rather amusing, although Hermione begged to differ as she scoffed at the scene. Alanna, pleasantly amused, leaned down a bit to get a better look at the siblings' activities.

In a sudden rush of movement, Ginny jumped up from the floor and retrieved her wand from the table. With a tap to her head and a softly muttered word, her hair changed colour to a dull onyx, her once shiny tresses hanging around her face limply. A blink and quick shake of her head changed her eyes into the same hue of blackness, her pupils having disappeared into a fathomless abyss.

Hermione groaned and covered her face in her hands, while Ron and Harry laughed loudly. With a quick shove of her elbow, Hermione deposited Harry on the floor with a noisy thud, which hardly diminished his amusement. The boys' laughter seemed to attract the rest of the common room as most of the others joined in the fun that Ginny was about to begin.

Before Alanna could think it odd that everyone was laughing at a simple hair and eye colour change Ginny advanced on her. Her eyes were the only thing that could be seen in her face, as most of it had been replaced by her raven hair. She silently approached Alanna's with finely arched black brow, lightly tracing the back of her chair and quickly coming around the side, stopping her movement before she hit Alanna's nose with her own.

"So, you are here to learn the subtle science and _exact_ art of potion-making?" Her voice had changed to a deeper timbre and the words seemed to roll in a silky-smooth threat off her tongue. Ginny backed up a few inches and gave her a feral smirk.

"As there is little foolish wand waving here…"she tossed her wand over her shoulder, hitting Ron, who had been eagerly watching, upside the head with it, eliciting more laughter from the crowd, "…you will hardly believe this is magic. I do not expect that you will really understand the beauty of a softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes," Ginny turned her nose up at Alanna and gave her an evil look from slanted eyes, then turning her attention to the others in the room, "…the delicate powers of liquids that creep through human veins," Ginny reached for Harry running her fingertips up his arm and around his neck, making him shiver with a bit of disgust, " bewitching the mind….ensnaring the senses."

She turned once more to Alanna and walked up to her with long strides before dropping to her knees before her and pressing her further into the seat; her hands resting on the arms of the chair. "I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death…"she hissed the last word menacingly. Ginny leaped to her feet then and stared at everyone in the room. "If you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach!"

Everyone began to laugh and applaud the former redhead as she jumped up on one of the tables and continued. "Potter! Twenty points for breathing! Weasley! Fifteen points for looking at one of the Slytherin prefects the wrong way! Longbottom, thirty points! Do I really need a reason Longbottom! Granger!" Ginny jumped from the table and stood facing her friend. "Granger, Granger, Granger….FIFTY points from you, for being an insufferable know-it-all. Oh yes, and did I forget a Gryffindor too?"

More applause ensued and Ginny bowed regally, lifting the charm that concealed her hair and eyes. She smiled and laughed at Alanna's face that had taken on an awed expression.

'Were they for real? Did they truly not appreciate the simmering cauldron and its beautiful fumes?' Alanna was shell-shocked. She supposed that the little display was supposed to scare her into believing this Professor Snape was a right old bastard, but she could not have agreed more with its content. Well the first part that is. Bewitching the mind and ensnaring the senses perfectly described her views of potions exactly. The only thing Alanna would regret is not meeting this professor before she left.

"I hope that didn't affect you too much."

Alanna blinked and jumped a bit seeing how close Harry had been leaning into her chair. 'For Merlin's sake, those eyes should be outlawed!'

"No, no, not at all. I just hope I will be able to meet his high expectations, is all," she lied smoothly and topped it with a smile.

Harry cocked his head to one side. "So, which school did you attend?"

Alanna swallowed as multiple pairs of eyes looked at her once more. "I have been privately tutored for the past eleven years."

"I guess all of us must be a bit overwhelming for you," Ginny said and gave everyone crowding Alanna's space a harsh frown.

Alanna laughed softly. "It is actually, and I am afraid I have not fully recovered yet," she rose from her seat and looked to Hermione. "If it is alright with you I would like to retire for the evening, Hermione."

"Oh, of course. Goodnight everyone!" A few goodnights could be heard from the remaining students.

Alanna looked at Harry, Ron, and Ginny with a smile. "It was very nice meeting all of you," and with that she followed the Head Girl out of the common room.

Ron watched his new 'sister' walk out, her hips softly swaying, and her auburn hair tickling her lower back. Bloody hell he was in love! His mother would castrate him and serve his balls on a platter!

"Isn't it great to have a new sister?" Ginny asked with gushing exuberance.

"Yea, absolutely spiffing," Ron grumbled after her as she made her way up into the girls' dormitory. Harry's solid hand fell onto his shoulder with a reassuring squeeze.

"Your mother is going to kill you, you know."

"Yea. Now I just have to figure out if she will be worth that pain," Ron let himself be pulled over to the chess set that had been abandoned earlier by a laughing Harry.

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"How long have you known Harry and Ron?" Hermione and Alanna were walking down the corridor to where the Head common room lay. It had two strategically placed entrances, one annexed to the Gryffindor hallway and one in the dungeon by the Slytherin common room for Draco. Hermione believed that the chambers themselves were located somewhere between the second and fourth floor.

"Ever since first year here at Hogwarts, after a nasty run in with a troll," Hermione laughed at the memory.

Alanna raised her eyebrow; and Madam Pomfrey though _she_ was nutters. "Do I even dare to ask?"

"It really is a long story that I would love to tell you, but I am sure you are too tired right now to hear about exploits from when we were eleven," Hermione approached the painting of a small girl dressed in lavender. "Summer Son." The portrait opened into a very comfortable common room with two different couches, one red of course and the other a deep green, positioned deliberately before the humongous hearth. The only items that did not seem to be green or red were the marble coffee table between the couches and two tastefully crafted writing desks on either side of the room.

"Well, this is it," Hermione said, motioning for Alanna to follow her to the door next to the fireplace that was engraved with a huge Lion. Although she would have rather looked into the room with green snake on it, she followed Hermione wordlessly. Why ask for something she would not care about in a few hours anyways.

"We share the common room with Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin Head Boy. I would stay away from him if you can; he is not the most pleasant to deal with. Harry, Ron, and I have had plenty of run-ins with him over the years. Just watch your back around him." Hermione opened the door and led the way into a pristine looking room, about the size of her own back at the manor.

"This is my side," she motioned toward the burgundy and gold blankets draped across the cherry-wood four-poster bed. There was a small nightstand to the left, and on the floor, a fluffy burgundy carpet that Hermione could sink her toes into.

"And this is yours," Hermione shifted a bit and looked to her right. Alanna's breath caught in her throat as she recognized the exact décor from her own chamber at home, which included the many, many books she owned. She went to them first, lovingly tracing her hands over the spines, pulling out her favorite _Herbal Antidotes to Common Poisons: A Potions Master's Guide_. A frown came over her features, however, when she noticed that it was a brand new copy of her book, and not her age worn treasure with numerous notes within its pages. Alanna grabbed another book, and skimmed it too, and another, flipping furiously through its pages. These were all brand new! Where were her real possessions?

Hermione watched her with mounting concern, as she pulled on the top drawer of her dresser, pulling out a grey sweater.

It was her favorite 'thinking' sweater . . . just that it was not worn in at all. It even smelled of brand new fabric.

"Are you alright, Alanna?" Hermione stepped up to her dresser and peered inside. "Professor McGonagall assured me that these were your things left in a vault for you."

The vault. She remembered the Headmaster mentioning something like that; but that would mean that her father had gathered replacements of all of her possessions over the past eight years. Her sweater alone had been six years old in the least, her mother had often complained about her horrid appearance in it. Had he known that he was in danger so many years ago? She shook herself mentally.

'I need to get to the bottom of this! I need to get home.'

"I am sorry Hermione, I must seem dreadfully odd to you. I was just surprised is all," Alanna forced a smile on her lips. She hated having to lie to the Head Girl, but some things were just unavoidable.

"These are exact replacements of what I owned at home, only newer versions," Alanna moved to her dark-blue hangings around her bed, relieved that they were not red, pushing them aside to the welcoming vision of her own sheets, blankets, and fluffy pillows all in her favorite dark-blue hue and ginger….ginger!

Her eyes came back to the offending colour and looked into the unmistakable yellow-green eyes of a rather large flat-faced cat, whose bottlebrush tail was swishing madly, distributing a fine layer of ginger hair over every pillow.

A gasp of air came from behind Alanna. "Crooks! What did I tell you about lying on Alanna's bed?" Hermione moved a curtain out of the way so she could get around Alanna to pluck the little sheik from his pillowed throne.

"It is quite alright, Hermione, really. I love animals," a light glow came over Alanna's features stopping Hermione in mid grab.

"Crookshanks is not the nicest of cats, though, and he does not take well to strangers…" she watched as Alanna did the most dangerous thing anyone would ever have dared around Crooks. She lowered herself on her knees and came eye to eye with the little tiger.

Before Hermione could stop him, he jumped from the pillows and attacked Alanna's face; or it seemed that he was about to as he stopped right before it and looked at her unblinkingly. Alanna began to coo words of endearments to Crooks, who just stared at her with a twitchy tail. After her third rendition of 'what a beautiful boy you are' the half-kneazle broke out into a bout of thunderous purring, butting his head against Alanna's chin.

Hermione's jaw dropped in astonishment. He just accepted her like that, without any type of reservations. Lord knows that both Ron and Harry still get to feel Crooks' claws every now and then, but an absolute stranger? Her familiar proceeded to fall on his side to let Alanna scratch his exposed belly, which she did without hesitation.

Alanna continued scratching him, running her hands around his thickly furred head. Crooks closed his eyes and promptly began to drool. "He reminds me of my puppy at home," a wave of nostalgia hit Alanna once more. Peaches was probably already worried sick about her.

With a final pet, she got up from her knees and stifled an exhausted yawn, looking down at the hair-covered blanket. Hermione took a hold of Crooks, pulling him off her bed and depositing him on her own. "Did my wand show up while I was moved in?" Alanna tried to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"Oh, yes. It should be on your nightstand," Hermione dropped Crooks unceremoniously on her bed, still contemplating his odd behaviour. The last time he had been this accepting, it had been Sirius, who had turned out to be more than a friend to the three of them. Hermione turned and watched Alanna gleefully clutch her wand, casting a few cleansing charms over her blankets. There appeared to be quite a bit if information Hermione had to attain concerning this new addition to her house. Perhaps her familiar is a better judge of character yet again…

Albeit being a replica as well, Alanna happily clutched the dark alder-wood wand that would bring her a few steps closer to freedom. With a practiced swish, she divested her covers of fur, feeling the smooth vibrations of her magic being channeled to do her bidding. Satisfied that her wand would perform adequately, she turned and walked to her closet, positioned next to her bed. She emerged a few minutes later with a pair of flannel pajamas and some thick socks, beneath which she hid her black slacks and turtleneck for tonight's excursion. Without a second glance over her shoulder, Alanna threw the covers off her bed and placed her clothes onto the soft sheets.

There was only one thing left to do. She felt unreasoned urge to take a long hot bath before she left, and the purging of her bladder. She would not forget to pee this time around! With this in mind, she turned to head toward the bathroom, Hermione staring after her, while attempting to study for her upcoming potions exam.

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_The music seemed to beckon her forward from the darkness. The soft sultry sound of an Arabian Kanoun being played, accompanied by a mandola, guitar, and softly played darabuka drums. Before her vision fully cleared, she could feel her hips moving involuntarily to the mesmerizing music, raising one hand delicately to her forehead, turning it in small circles toward the top of her head. She could feel the cool fabric of several scarves hanging loosely off her gyrating hips, a soft jingle of various coins suspended from her skimpily clad bodice. _

_Her eyes opened slowly taking in her heavily veiled surroundings, numerous candelabras illuminating the seductive scene. She could feel the cooling wisp of material clinging to the lower part of her face as she inhaled the sweet scent of sandalwood incense. With skilled movements she dropped her hip, kicking softly with her foot as she did so, letting her muscles move on their own volition to the intoxicating rhythm. Her mind, that had remained blissfully blank up to now, came forth with a single notion._

'_I am here for his pleasure. My only want is to please him.'_

_Her eyes closed once again as she poured herself into the music, rolling her body expertly, revealing bits of creamy skin beneath her veils. Her hand slowly spiraling down to detach a colourful piece of gauzy fabric at her hip, pulling it upward and letting it twirl alluringly to the carpeted floor. The music accelerated, enticing her hips to swivel faster, her stomach muscles moving sensuously and dramatically to the beating of the drum. _

_Her hair had fallen down her back in loose cascades of curls, tantalizingly shielding her exposed back from his view, while she removed yet another veil from her body. Her eyes reopened and focused solely on the man lying before her on various assortments of plush silken pillows, watching her with an intent gaze. His attire pleased her immensely, eliciting yet another well-trained roll from her hips, exposing more of her skin for his viewing pleasure. He was clad in nothing more than flaring, black silk pants held on his hips by a deep green sash, his chest thankfully bare. She could tell that he was straining not to touch her, his muscles working hard beneath his alabaster skin to let her finish. With a provocative smile,_ _her hands lowered to her shoulders, then proceeding to caress over her coined breasts, moving her body into closer proximity to his. Her muscular thighs lowered her downward before his feet, her upper body swiveling backward as far as she could, her head meeting with the Persian carpet, as her hips bucked toward him._

_She gazed up at him, an invitation clearly written beneath her veiled face; her master crooked his finger at her, dictating her to come even closer. With slow motions, she lifted her body upward, her hands moving toward the heavens, into an upright position. Growling delightedly at his lust shadowed face, she quickly dropped to her hands and knees, approaching him on all fours, like a lioness would its prey. _

_With a gracefulness not her own she moved up his body, stopping only at the exposed skin of his belly, before lowing her head and breathing hotly over it, her hair raking over his hips. Her tongue was urging her to release it onto one of his dark pink nipples, but she refrained, positioning her knees above his hips continuing her dance._

_She felt him before she realized what he had done. His large hands grabbed a hold of her hips, flipping her expertly onto her back, pinning her down with his weight. In one smooth motion, he divested her of the veil that covered her face, claiming her lips in a crushing kiss meant to be rough and bruising. With a commanding flick of his tongue, he demanded entrance into her willing mouth, which she opened to him without reserve, their tongues beginning a dance of their own._

_Her breathing was becoming more laboured with every searing kiss, his chest lowering itself onto hers, pressing the breath effectively from her lungs. With one big gasp, she released his lips and stared up into the dark eyes of her Demon, who was staring forebodingly at her. Another anguished breath tried to make its way to her lungs, but failed darkness pricked the side of her vision._

Alanna woke up with a start, something hindering her from taking a full breath, weighing heavily on her chest. Her hands flew to her upper body and encountered a monstrous, furry object that promptly commenced to purr at her touch. With a half-smile half-wince, Alanna gently moved Crookshanks from her body and onto a vacant pillow, petting him softly before untangling herself from her sheets. Her trembling hands wiped at her damp brow as she recalled her dream with embarrassing detail, not daring to lower her eyelids in fear of seeing his reclining, sinister form on the pillows. There was that small voice inside, however, which begged, pleaded and screamed to get a taste of the unknown charms the nefarious fruit seemed to offer. The persisting burn of the sandalwood had an irrationally calming affect on her raging senses, the memory of it lingering in her nostrils.

'Merlin…it seemed so real.'

This must be what happens when a female is introduced to the opposite sex! Her senses go haywire and she resides in perpetual state of…of what exactly? Hormonal desires? Urges? Represses longings for black, rough, enticing…clothing? Oh, no this would never do. She needed to get a grip on herself and leave.

As quietly as she dared, Alanna slipped from her sheets and pulled her hidden clothing from beneath her pillow and grabbing her wand from the nightstand. A muttered incantation silenced any of her movements while she changed into her clothing, then binding her hair back with a spell, and finally summoning her winter cloak noiselessly from her dresser. With a final look at the drawn curtains of Hermione's bed, Alanna slipped out the door into the common room, closing it softly behind her with a trembling hand.

'You are bloody barmy! It was only a dream nothing more…' with a baleful look at her hands, Alanna pivoted on her heels.

The common room was thankfully empty, only a few books and scrolls of parchment littering the pristine marble coffee table; an inkwell and quill neatly positioned at the far side of the table. The fire in the hearth crackled merrily, urging her to leave the room before its occupants, she gathered the Head Boy, decided to return to his late night studying. Within a few steps, she had crept to the portrait of the snoring girl in lavender, opening the frame to step into the darkened Gryffindor corridor. The portrait closed with a muted click of a latch behind her.

Her eyes darted down the dimly lit hallway, shadows eerily playing across the stonewalls. In a swift motion, Alanna retrieved her wand from the hidden pocket embedded in the lining of her robes, placing a stronger silencing charm on herself and a concealment charm for good measure. Feeling a bit more in control, she rounded the corner to the top of the main staircases, now moving silently, as if charmed as well.

Alanna took a deep breath prior to aiming her wand at her temple, fully concentrating on what she had learned of Hogwarts dungeon labyrinth. The tip of her wand vibrating imperceptibly, an azure shimmer being drawn from her mind.

Her spine stiffened, her wand resolutely pointed ahead of her as she whispered,

"Point me."

Her wand promptly commenced to pull her forward subtly, with a small tug against her clenched hand.

'So far so good,' Alanna thought morbidly, while swallowing her trepidations valiantly. The staircases were also shrouded in shadows, minimal lighting being available at this time of night, which she assumed to be around three in the morning. She took the stairs two at a time, only slowing down when she came too close to the chasm that promised a hideous fall between staircases.

She had lost count of how many staircases she had descended as her eyes focused on two glowing spots ten meters before her. An ice-cold shiver ran up her back, making her shudder involuntarily at the prospect of what Hogwarts had to offer in nightly 'escape-deterrents.'

"_Nox_," she hissed at her wand, the faint blue light extinguishing instantly.

Alanna stood on the staircase as the orbs moved closer to her, her breathing becoming shallow, her forearm flexing in anticipation for the hex she would be hurling at the monster; a few beads of ice cold perspiration trickling down her neck.

Whatever this _thing_ turned out to be, she would not be deterred in leaving, swearing a silent oath in her Family's name.

A small echoing sound filled the overly hushed semblance around her, croaky, grating, and raspy, with the suspiciously familiar essence of…cat?

The luminescent eyes approached her stealthily evolving into the form of a cat that at one point had seen better days. A very thin, dust coloured cat with glowing eyes approached Alanna and sat two stairs down from her, staring unblinkingly and rather accusatory.

"Grrrreow!"

She seriously had to suppress the laughter that threatened to spill from her lips. How could she have been this scared about a cat? Not that she had ever prided herself in being a brave soul, but this was just too absurd to comprehend.

With a smile, she crouched down and beckoned the animal towards her, the tips of her fingers wiggling enticingly at the poor thing.

"Grrrreow!"

The cat's voice became louder, echoing through the tower. Alanna wrinkled her forehead in concern; perhaps the kitty needed something? Stepping down again, she positioned herself next to the cat, letting it sniff her fingers, while cooing nonsense words at the poor animal. The poor dear looked a fright!

The cat stopped its racket in mid meow, tilting its head to the side and regarding Alanna from head to toe. A small sniff to the air and a swish of its tail later, she found the thing imitating a purr that sounded more like a death rattle than anything else, while seeking attention with its head and body.

A shuffling noise toward the bottom of the staircase ripped her attention from the cat to the …most horrible looking man that she had ever seen! The planes of his face harshly illuminated by the oil lamp he held only a few meters from his eager expression. A depraved smile graced his thin lips, calling out harshly:

"Mrs. Norris! Did you find a student out of bed, my pretty?"

Alanna was rooted to the spot not knowing what she should do next. Though her charm was concealing her whereabouts, she felt more than uncomfortable being in a close proximity to this…man.

"Who is there? Show yourself! You can't hide from me!"

She looked back down at the cat, who continued purring and staring at her with those huge eyes of hers. Then, abruptly, she turned and walked ran down the stairs meeting him halfway, tail high, another rattling Meow cutting through the silence.

"Where are they Mrs. Norris? Show me."

With another look up the stairs, Mrs. Norris disappeared down the nearest hallway, the panting man close on her paws.

Alanna inhaled deeply after realizing she had held on to it for quite some time, rising slowly and creeping down the remaining stairs to the first floor.

"Point me."

The wand resumed its magical pull toward the dark passageway leading to the main doors of Hogwarts. Just when she thought she could make a clean escape down to the dungeon stairs she heard the unmistakable sound of evil cackling from up ahead. A groan of frustration slipped from her closed lips as she spied a snippet of ghost gliding through the walls at a sickening pace.

'Great! A poltergeist is all she needed now!' This night was getting worse by the second.

With a graceful pivot on the balls of her feet, Alanna found refuge behind a rather large suit of armor, waiting for the storm to pass, literally. The bloody specter bounced up and down the hall cackling, spitting, blowing raspberries, making other rude noises, and just being a horrible nuisance. The little patience that had been part of her fear of being caught quickly crumbled – her wand at the ready for some serious exorcism.

"What is that I hear? Be you ickle firsties? Big bad beasty? Or a little snotty Potty?"

'Potty! How rude!' She was more offended over having been called a loo than having been found out; retaliation to the insult had to wait, however.

"Peeves!" A booming baritone voice echoed through the hall, reverberating ominously.

"Yes, sir. His lordship, Baron, sir," the ghost shrieked shrilly.

"I have had enough of your racket! One more sound out of you and I will personally bind you to spend the rest of the school year in the lake!"

'Hear, hear,' Alanna liked this Baron character already.

"Oh, please your royal highness bloody Baron, sir. Peeves felt someone in the hall, your awful gracefulness, sir…"

"Be that as it may! I have tired of your activity this night, having more important matters to take care of," the voice sounded more than perturbed.

"Ohhhh the little Snakey's all alone? What fun, wha…"

"Peeves!"

A loud shriek of laughter later the offending ghost had vanished, the other voice not mentioning anything about his sudden departure. Alanna carefully crept around the suit of armor and followed the pull of her wand, all the while hoping that 'the Baron' would not get wind of her traipsing around in his territory. She did not want to find out why he called himself 'the bloody' after all.

Not long after her ghostly encounter, she found herself staring at the huge double doors of Hogwarts, of which she would have rather seen the other side. Her wand however coaxed her toward a giant archway to her right, eerily illuminated with a forest green tint, a chilly draft making her hair stand on end. With unsure steps, she began her descent into very cold territory.

The dungeon smelled of potion supplies and ancient mildew. A combination that could only be loved by a dedicated student. She felt closer to home with every step as she inhaled the scent deeply; although, the mildew she could have done without, as her nose crinkled in distaste.

Various flaming wall sconces tapered along the walls of the dungeon hallway, giving off a rich green glow that barely illuminated enough for Alanna to see more than a few feet ahead of her. Emblems of snakes graced most of the etched surfaces of the stones, a few huge paintings littering the cold and glistening walls.

She could feel their eyes on her. Cold and calculating, a few sneers were thrown her way, and the grumbling disapproval of 'rude students'. The path made a sudden veer to the left, leading her even farther into the underbelly of the castle, firelight being few and far between.

With a final lurch of her wand, Alanna passed a rather large sconce that brightly flickered with the same magically green flames, licking up the cold wall. The tip of the wood extinguished announcing her arrival at the hidden passage that would lead her to the outside of her stony prison.

"Here goes nothing," she murmured. "_Ostendo absconditus_," her wand gracefully swept over the stonewall.

A pulsating viridian shimmer traced around the frame of the shrouded doorway; announcing the voluntary opening of the portal with a grinding wheeze.

With an inhalation of relief, Alanna looked down the corridor from whence she had hailed, to assure herself there were no prying eyes witnessing her escape. Two steps toward the passage she found herself repelled by yet another wall, staggering backward against the opposing stone, bruising her back by the harsh impact. The gasp of pain, however, died on her parted lips when her eyes made contact with a dark figure standing across from her, scaring her half to death. Her eyes grew wide as saucers, as the black clad figure stepped into the hall, the light of the fire giving him a sinister and unearthly look to the pallid skin of his face. His unblinking eyes glittered dangerously, in search for the perpetrator who had dared to make contact with this formidable form.

Alanna did not know if to pinch herself or if she should simply enjoy the obvious hallucination, the Fates have so cunningly presented her. If this were a dream, her mind certainly would have stripped him of his many layers of clothing.

With a smooth swipe of his hand, he lunged at the empty space before him, barely missing her flattened body and effectively convincing her mind that this truly was a real encounter with the demon.

Time, air, mind and heartbeat suspended.

Alanna watched him with morbid fascination, as his lightning fast reflexes set out to retrieve his wand from within his black attire. A smooth wand movement later, she could feel the charms that had concealed her whereabouts lifted, the strength of the spell sending her bed-knotted hair into a tangled mess down her back. Instantly he closed the few steps between them, clutching her neck in and unyielding grip and lifting her a few inches off the ground.

Alanna's hands instinctively flew to her throat, one clutching his muscled forearm while the other tried in vain to loosen his grip, her raspy breathing quickly drawing in his unique scent, leaving her memories of it wanting. The vanilla and musk were stronger this time with an undercurrent of sandalwood and something she could not identify. His fingertips were burning into her skin reducing Alanna to a quivering mass of sensation hovering between pain and an unidentifiable excited rush of energy that pooled and swirled into her stomach. Her eyes devoured every line and subtle feature unblinkingly.

"Leaving us so soon, Miss Flint?" His voice made her bite down on her lip to suppress a moan, the soft, silky baritone laced with dangerous undertones. She knew he could feel her racing pulse beneath the thin layer of skin, as she gave her dry lips a tentative lick.

A heartbeat later, he relinquished his hold and stepped back two paces, her body to recuperate by supplying her with much needed oxygen, her eyes roaming over his body.

Only a Goddess could have created this perfection.

"Follow me," not a request, but an order. An order her feet wanted to comply with, but her mind screamed to defy. With narrowed eyes and cold sneer, he pivoted on his heels and majestically strode toward where she had come.

Alanna swallowed painfully and watched the door that promised freedom close excruciatingly slowly. If she moved, right now, she could still make it…but then again how fast could she run from the Angel of Darkness?

There would be other ways to exit this castle; she only had to wait for the opportunity to present itself. For now, she considered herself thoroughly caught.

With a straightening of the spine and a lift of the chin, she turned and followed him silently.

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**Author's Note: **Thank you to all who succumbed to the Imperius and reviewed. I really appreciate all of you giving me your honest opinions. Thank you Mark Darcey for your constructive criticism. Mysticsong and I have looked into it and discussed further actions. I hope this is to your satisfaction! I had loads of good time writing it!

Thank you Mysticsong…well, you know for what.

Thank you Pink! My muse has returned from vacation.

LKLTB, ThoughandI, Lucidity, this is all for you guys, my most loyal (OMG I SOUND LIKE VOLDI!). Summerkins, Lisa –aka lord Snape's Lady, AND to everyone else who reviews. I love all of them; they make me so happy knowing that my story is worth pressing that little button on the left. Please, do it again! This is how I get paid!


	15. A long walk home

**Potions: What would a Girl Do without It?**

**By Slave4Severus**

**Disclaimer: I still do not own any of J.K.R. characters. Even though I wish I did.**

Sometimes he truly despised the weather. The rain in Scotland never fell from the sky in the same manner as it had previously. If the day began with a soft, misty drizzle it could turn within a heartbeat and become an icy, drenching downpour. It was one of these notorious releases of nature that welcomed the Potions Master back to his humble lodgings. The rain pelted his black robes with merciless abandon, coming down in driving sheets that penetrated every inch of his skin with icy pinpricks.

Severus gritted his teeth and marched through the waterlogged grounds, feeling the mud ooze into his Oxfords and turning his feet into cold stumps of flesh. Within record time, the Potions Master crossed over the threshold of the hidden passage that lead into a secluded part of his dungeons, away from prying eyes. Not that any sane individual would be loitering about this late at night, even Filch had the need for sleep. The stone wall replaced itself silently behind him, cutting off mother nature's raging tantrum with an effective thud.

With a wave of his wand, Severus divested his dripping face of water before drying the rest of his clothes and person. A softly mumbled cleansing spell took care of the grainy wetness in his boots, as he threw back the hood of his cloak to assess any other damage caused by prior…events.

His hands trembled as they ghosted over his form, locating two sore ribs during the silent inventory. Thankfully, Lucius received more bouts of Crucio than he had, being a vital link in the Dark Lord's plan to extradite the girl from the castle. He had lost count over the past hours how many times they all had been cursed, only that few remained conscious enough to apparate back to their homes; their emergency portkeys having been activated by their staggering comrades.

Severus straightened and pulled his robes straight beneath his cloak, hoping his hands would not give away too much of the nights proceedings. He wished he could retire to his chambers, but his duty to Albus came first, the blasted old man!

The signature scowl well in place, he turned toward the wall that would emit him into the dungeons. "_Ostendo absconditus_," he hissed, his wand gracefully swishing at the stone, which immediately obeyed by radiating green light; opening grudgingly.

Before Severus could move into the hallway, however, a solid and invisible object collided with his own tall frame. His senses already being piqued to an extreme, he immediately focused on the dull sound of a body hitting the dungeon wall before him.

'Potter!'

His jaw clenched painfully, his eyes narrowed into black slits, and his hand shot out to get a hold on that damnable invisibility cloak that foolish boy seemed to think nobody knew about. He would teach that bloody Gryffindor this time…however, his clenched fist returned empty.

His wand resurfaced with agile precision, his hushed words lifting the obvious concealment charms, "_Finite Incantatem Maximus_."

Severus' instincts seemed to get the better of him, pushing his feet forward toward the newly visible figure that possessed copious amounts of hair, his left hand clutching the neck and lifting the body a few inches off the ground.

Delicate hands clutched furiously at his forearm and wrist, trying to get his grip to loosen in vain. His gaze moved from her hands to her face, his fingers tightening imperceptibly at her identity.

"Leaving us so soon, Miss Flint?" Severus schooled his anger into the silky strands of his voice. The stupid girl actually thought she would be able to leave this castle without being found out! Then again, she had been dangerously close to accomplishing her task.

'How very Gryffindor,' he thought uncharitably, as he watched her laboured breathing.

Perhaps a small taste of what awaited her beyond the walls of Hogwarts would stop her from this foolishness. His hand lifted her a little more, eliciting a jump in her pulse rate, which beat heavily against his middle and ring finger.

Her eyes had grown large and glassy, her pupils fully dilated in the soft green glow of the fire, while she stared at him unblinkingly. Not that it unnerved him in the least. He was not, however, prepared for the tip of her small tongue to wet her parched lips as she stared at him.

Severus stepped away from her instantly relinquishing her throat, vaguely monitoring her gasping intakes of breath, her eyes never leaving his person.

"Follow me," he scowled effectively, pivoting on the ball of his toes and striding down the hall.

So help her, if she did not follow.

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Alanna hardly noticed walking through the dank and drafty dungeons, following him with only ten paces between them. Her mind was busily trying to digest and catalogue what had happened only a few minutes prior, undoubtedly to be reviewed during another dream-filled night.

She watched him swiftly ascend the dungeon stairs, his cloak softly gliding over the stony steps. Her body had been undeniably humming with a warm tingling sensation since he had touched her and all too willingly appreciated the form he made. Her skin prickled uncomfortably beneath her clothing and shedding it seemed to be the most logical impulse her hormone driven mind could create. The steadying breath she took only filled her nostrils with his intoxicating scent, forcing her to bite down on her lower lip once more, promptly falling back another five paces.

She was being utterly ridiculous! Alanna had never felt this out of control in her life.

As she watched him cross the main entrance to the huge staircase leading to the second floor, she noticed the firelight dancing over his black hair, noting that it had been shorter the last time she had seen him. Alanna's eyes narrowed slightly. What did she know about this man?

It seemed very little, except that he had been the focus of her sexual energies for the past year now. Although, what man would have been hiding behind a hidden door in order to waylay a student in the middle of the night? What were his duties here in the castle, and what importance did he have to her father, to have been summoned to Flint manor?

Then it struck her.

The object of her dreams must be the caretaker!

It made perfect sense to Alanna. Only the caretaker of a huge castle such as this would be able to stalk around the school at night to make sure all of the ghosts and children were not running amok. The horrible little man with the cat must have been one of his associates; after all, the castle was too grand to be patrolled by only one.

This brought Alanna to the next question. How had he known her name? Yet again, who DID NOT know her name? This was all more confusing than she had the energy to contemplate.

"Keep up!" His voice was overly harsh and Alanna felt her steps quicken involuntarily. Where was he taking her?

A few more staircases and a couple of halls later, they found themselves before a huge statue of a gargoyle. His abrupt stop left her inches from stumbling headlong into his broadly cloaked back, subsequently forcing her blood into her face as she took a few steps back and waited.

'Maybe this is his office…caretaker headquarters.'

"Creamy nougat," he hissed softly, the gargoyle moving to the side to reveal another set of wooden spiraling stairs, which he took two at a time.

Alanna did not have time to contemplate the odd choice of password, as she followed him up the stairs. An odd sense of foreboding hit her like a ton of bricks, slowing her steps dramatically; why did she get the feeling that she may have gotten herself into a heap of trouble.

The doors to the office opened slowly as he approached them, leading into a circular room with an obscene amount of snoring paintings, odd silver instruments sitting on spindle-legged tables emitting little puffs of smoke. The focal point of the room, however, was the enormous, claw-footed desk. Alanna slowly followed him into his lair, watching him carefully as he situated himself close to the window and turned to face her. His eyes bore into hers with a cold regard, while his hand motioned for her to sit in one of his chairs before his humongous desk, covered with a multitude of papers and knickknacks, including a very old, and ratty looking wizard hat. The thought of him wearing something so atrocious made her arch her brow with something a kin to merriment.

Alanna slowly moved to the green armchair and was about to settle herself into it, when she heard a small raspy sound to her right, promptly searching out its origin. A small gasp of pleasure left her parted lips as she spotted the beautiful red and gold plumage of a phoenix sitting on his perch close to the fireplace. Without a second thought to its owner she quickly walked up to the bird, who looked at her sleepy eyed and questioningly. A small smile played on her lips, while she lifted her hand to pet his feathers.

"Touch nothing," he said softly. The man seemed to speak in command form only.

Alanna looked over her shoulder at him with furrowed brow, Fawkes sending him much of the same behind her. She returned her attention back to the bird and smiled at it sweetly, reluctantly leaving its side and seating herself in her chair.

Then she waited for whatever he had to discuss with to her to begin.

A few minutes of silence later she could not stand it any longer and graced him with her full attention. He stood at the window looking over the dark countryside without a glance in her direction. She could see his black clad frame leaning against the window, his arms folded before him, and his long, tapered fingers drumming impatiently against his forearms. Her body reminded her of his affect on it with another jolt, forcing her to cross her legs tightly to ease the throbbing somewhat.

"Good morning, Severus…Miss Flint."

She nearly jumped out of her chair in fright at the Headmaster's soft-spoken words, watching him come out of the shadows in a polka dotted nightshift and pink dressing gown. He looked over his half-moon glasses at her in questioning silence, while seating himself in the heavy leather wingback behind the desk. Too stunned to react to his presence, the older man shifted his attention from her.

"Albus…"

"I trust your evening went well, Severus?"

"As well as anticipated, but that is not why I had Miss Flint accompany me here tonight."

His name was Severus? Severus….hmm…_Severus_…_Oh, Severus_! No, No stop, stop not now! Alanna shook her head slightly, missing the flicker of merriment in the Headmaster's eyes.

"Do continue, _Severus_."

Severus moved from his position by the window and slowly approached the seated Headmaster.

"I found Miss Flint wandering the _dungeon_ halls tonight, specifically the one that has a certain hidden passage leading to the outside of the castle," his eyes disdainfully roamed over her person.

"Is that so?" Albus looked at Alanna with an unreadable expression, her eyes returning the scrutiny full force.

"I have said all along, Albus, that this girl needs to be under constant supervision, having broken at least five school rules within her first night," he stood menacingly behind Alanna's chair, hoping to intimidate the girl even further.

Alanna felt his presence behind her and tried to focus on the Headmaster. It would simply not do to have impure thoughts of the caretaker while seated across the executor of her father's Will. Her mother would have been appalled; her heart clenched painfully.

"…that is why I suggest she should be confined within certain areas of this school…"

Alanna blinked, listening to what he actually had to say: he wanted to lock her up in this molding old heap of rocks?

"…and be punished for her infractions upon school rules, including…"

She had heard enough of this utter rubbish! Still, she found his dark, snarky attitude incredibly desirable. Alanna locked her eyes upon the Headmaster and folder her hands in her lap.

"Before I have to listen to another word, sir, I would like to advise you that locking me up within these walls will not accomplish anything."

He had just been adequately and rudely cut off from his tirade. How _dare_ she? Severus straightened his spine to his full height, his face twisting in fury at the bloody chit.

Albus leaned against his chair and steepled his hands, watching a rather disheveled looking Miss Flint collect a surprising amount of courage, for a natural born Slytherin, and interrupt the most feared professor of his staff.

"Miss Flint, what were you doing in the dungeons tonight?" Albus watched her intently.

"I was merely curious…" she hated lying.

Severus leaned down closer before hissing: "Curiosity killed the cat."

"Yes, and satisfaction brought it back," the sentence had come out before she could stop herself, being one of her standard responses to her father's exact statement. Now, it had taken on a different meaning, however. Alanna forced herself not to groan.

Severus sent her a look of pure venom, his obsidian eyes glittering dangerously at her cheek. She was treading into very dangerous territory. Miss Flint would pay dearly for her cheek when he got the chance.

"That pathetic excuse of a lie could not even fool an inebriated centaur, Miss Flint," he replied smoothly.

Well, he did have a point. Nevertheless, Alanna was loosing her patience.

"Quite frankly, Mr. Severus, I do not give a damn what you choose to believe."

Deathly silence.

"How _dare_ you speak to me this way? One hundred points…"

"Severus! Calm yourself. Miss Flint has not even begun her classes yet."

Alanna watched his face contort in anger with macabre fascination, his eyes shooting more than daggers at her. The bruises he had left on her neck dully throbbed beneath her sweater in a silent reminder of what the man was capable of doing. He really took his work seriously.

"Miss Flint, an answer please," Dumbledore had taken on his no-nonsense tone of voice.

Alanna sighed softly. "I was looking for something…"

_Liar, liar!_

"For what exactly?" Severus had enough of her antics.

"I was looking for the potions lab," her voice never faltered.

"Miss Flint, we do not have all night to discuss this matter. Either you will tell the Headmaster and me why you were looking for the potions lab, or so help me by Merlin's wand, I will be forced to retrieve the truth by other means."

"…other means?" Her voice was thick with desire.

"A glass of water, Miss Flint?" Dumbledore looked at the flustered girl over his glasses, trying not to reveal the smile that was threatening to manifest itself. "And no, Severus, Veritasserum will not be added to it."

Severus had the decency not to look crestfallen.

Alanna swallowed heavily, and shook her head at Albus. "I was searching for the lab in order to brew a muscle relaxant for myself. I experienced problems falling asleep, tossing and turning mostly. Since my release from the hospital I have been more than a little tense." The only thing she did not lie about was the part about tossing and turning in her bed; she hoped she was not blushing again.

"Why did you not return to Madam Pomfrey and asked her for the potion?" Albus was clearly a bit confused.

"Have you ever tasted a muscle relaxant potion, Headmaster? It is the vilest brew imaginable."

Severus lifted a dark brow.

"A few months ago I developed a topical solution that can be massaged into the skin, relaxing and penetrating stiff muscle tissue. I only wanted to use the lab brew enough to last me before my own cauldron and ingredients arrived."

Severus stared at her.

"I hope I understand this correctly, Miss Flint. First, you planned on breaking into the school potions lab. Secondly, you wanted to steal from the school stores, and attempt to bypass the wards of the private stores for more illusive ingredients. Thirdly, you want to set up a lab with your own ingredients and cauldron, which at Hogwarts is strictly forbidden, and finally, you commenced with this foolishness in the dead of night past curfew," Severus stated in a deadly lilting voice.

'Oh, bugger.'

"If you put it that way, then yes, that was my intent when I left my bed tonight," Alanna looked down at her hands meekly. She hoped the lie would pass their scrutiny.

If not, she could always tell them the truth.

'Hey, I hated this drafty old castle and want to get back home where the people aren't total nutters, and I am not being treated like an oddity to be ogled at.'

Now that would probably go over well!

"Miss Flint," Albus waited until she looked up at him. "The facilities are available to you whenever you need them, providing that you finish your work before the school enforced curfew."

A muscle in Severus' jaw tightened uncomfortably.

"I do want to explain to you, that your late parents and new guardians wish you to remain here at Hogwarts for the remainder of the school year. Thus, you are not allowed beyond the castle grounds under any circumstance. Failure to meet these rules will result in a form of punishment to be set by your head of house," Albus raised himself from his chair and looked at her amicably. "I am sure you will make friends very soon, Miss Flint."

Alanna rose from her seat, and bid the Headmaster a stiff good night.

"Severus, please escort Miss Flint to her chambers. We do not wish for her to get lost in the castle," Albus smiled knowingly at Severus, who snapped his head around giving Alanna a look of contempt.

"Of course, Headmaster," with a curt nod, he swept toward the door.

He passed Alanna without another glance, his forceful gate stirring the air behind him, filling it with his scent. Like a moth to the flame, she turned and followed him from the room. Did he do that to _every_ woman?

Once again, Alanna kept herself at a safe distance of ten paces, as they ascended the staircases to Gryffindor tower. Only one thought swirled in her mind: did he remember her? Alanna swallowed forcefully.

Merlin she hoped not, and yet again, she wished he would! Could she be anymore pathetic?

Too soon did they reach the seventh floor and the darkened hallway beyond. She could make out the painting that would emit her into Hermione's chambers over his left shoulder, as they passed a shadowy patch in the hall. Without a hint of notice, Severus turned on her, retracing his steps to advance upon her once more. Alanna, having been lost to her own thoughts, did not expect to find a wall of black fabric obstruct her view of the hallway, and sidestepped him. Her shoulder grazed the stone wall before his hand shot out and trapped her against the wall, forcing her to look up into his furious face.

'Oh, shit.'

"I want to make one thing perfectly clear, Miss Flint. If I catch you stealing or brewing illegal potions under this roof, I will not refrain from turning you over to the proper authorities," he paused for emphasis.

"And if I catch you administering an illegal potion…again…I will not be held responsible for my actions," his sneer spoke volumes.

Alanna had problems focusing on anything other than his mouth, wishing he would finally shut up and kiss her breathless…that was until he threatened her.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I will not take orders, or threats for that matter, from a glorified housekeeper, Mr. Severus. Now, if you do not mind I would like to return to my chambers," her eyes fell to his hands that anchored her against the wall before narrowing on him once more. "Do you not have some house elves to go push around?"

Severus leaned down toward her face, their noses close to touching. "It seems your father has been remiss in teaching you proper manners. I shall be happy to educate you further in that regard, Miss Flint," his voice barely made it past a whisper.

"My manners are impeccable, sir! It is your tongue, which forces me to stand up for myself," the thought of his tongue made her shiver slightly.

Severus straightened abruptly and looked her over coolly. With a swish of his robes, he turned and exited the tower, leaving a heavily breathing Alanna in his wake. He could hardly wait to get her into his classroom tomorrow. Loss of points would only be the beginning of her worries.

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**Author's Note: **There you go! Another chapter for my pretties! Thank you again for all of your reviews: LKLTB, Summerkins, ThouandI, Lucidity, Marc Darcy and all the others. Thank you also to the anonymous reviews I have been getting. Everything counts and I am happy that you are enjoying yourself. Next up: First day of school.

Thank you to Mystic, you wonderful little beta you!

Thank you to my muse and inspiration who makes my dialogue nice and snarky, PinkCorsair!


	16. First day

**Potions: What would a Girl Do without It?**

**By Slave4Severus**

** Disclaimer: I still do not own any of J.K.R. characters. Even though I wish I did. **

Alanna knew that sleep would not find her for the rest of the night. Upon entering her shared quarters, she was welcomed by Hermione's familiar, his mistress not having noticed her departure or arrival. Without shedding her clothes, Alanna laid on top of her bed, Crookshanks making himself comfortable on one of her pillows.

Her first attempt at leaving had failed miserably. She would have to try again, as soon as possible.

She had run into _him_: the caretaker of all people, the man who had vowed to make her life here a living hell. How he could accomplish, however, that was another matter altogether.

Alanna ran her hands over her face and aching neck in frustration. Why did men have this weird affect on her? Not only her peculiar behavior with Ron and Harry, but now with the middle-aged hired help? Her mother would have been so disappointed.

She wished her father were here. She missed him more than she could ever have imagined. His laughter, reassuring nature, and loving kindness were the pinnacles of her childhood memories.

She wiped her dry eyes roughly pushing the feelings of self-pity from her mind. What she needed was another nice, long, hot bath.

Within minutes she had stripped down to her bra and knickers, laying her black garments neatly on her bedcovers. Silently she strode into the brightly illuminated white marble bathroom, approaching the sunken tub at the far end of the room. Alanna did have to admit that this bathroom had far nicer commodities than her last one.

A small turn of her wrist opened the hot water tap with gushing force. A selection of bath oils were artfully decorating the rim of the bath, selecting the violet oil she tipped a plentiful amount of the shimmering purple liquid into the steaming water. While the bath filled itself, Alanna turned to her side of the room, regarding herself in the huge oval mirror.

Her hair looked positively ratty! The bags under her eyes had not diminished in the slightest, and the fresh bruises on her neck emphasized the small, jagged scar that now stood out in a purplish hue. Her eyes traveled down further over her average sized frame, anticipating further scars, but thankfully finding none.

She shed the rest of her clothing and carefully stepped into the steaming pool of water, savoring the heat that crept into her aching limbs. With a soft sigh, she reclined in the fragrant water, letting it caress her pebbled flesh. If only everything in life were as simple as a hot bath.

When the water turned lukewarm, she emerged and wrapped herself into a fluffy pink towel. A few flicks of her wand dried and sleeked her hair, while a few more concealed the bruises. Following a vigorous tooth brushing, she left the bathroom in search of her stuffy school robes.

The grey light of dawn cautiously played over the room's interior, as Alanna stepped into her closet. A soft rustling alerted her to Hermione's awakening and quickly donned the Gryffindor sweater and robe, the tie loosely hanging around her neck. She had no bloody idea how to knot it correctly and hoped that her roommate would be able to help her out in that regard.

"Good morning," a sleepy eyed and bushy haired Hermione greeted her from the bathroom door with a small smile. "You are up early," she yawned gracefully.

"Good morning," Alanna walked out of her closet and shut the door softly behind her. "I had trouble sleeping last night," she replied. The understatement of the century!

"You did sleep a little violently. Were you having a nightmare?" Hermione had been reading, while Alanna had drifted off to sleep last night. It did not take more than thirty minutes before she had begun to thrash around and moan in her sleep.

Alanna blushed furiously. "Yes, it was rather silly really." 'Rather HOT would define that dream.'

"I am going to take a quick shower. Would you like to wait on me? I will bring you back to the infirmary and then get some breakfast in the Great Hall before classes. Does that sound good to you?"

Alanna truly smiled for the first time. "Yes, that would be lovely, thank you."

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Forty-five minutes later, both young women emerged out of their rooms and into the joint common room. They both carried rather heavy looking leather bags, draped casually over their shoulders. Any sign of the Head Boy's late night study session had vanished, the green armchair flanking the red one once more.

"You mentioned last night that the Head Boy is not very friendly toward you. Why is that?" Alanna kept her voice down, not to disturb the other occupant of their quarters.

"Well, it is safe to say that we do not look eye to eye on certain matters. Such as the circumstances of my birth, for example," Hermione regarded Alanna with an unreadable expression.

Alanna wanted to question her further, but found herself cut off by the opening of the portrait, through which Hermione was ushering her.

"Good morning, ladies."

Both were surprised, but reacted entirely differently. While Hermione squeaked a high-pitched "Ronald!" Alanna had pulled her wand with lightning speed, aiming it between the redhead's eyes.

All three were staring at each other, opened mouthed.

Hermione could not believe that Ron had actually woken up early enough to know what dawn looked like.

Alanna had been too shocked to hear a man, other than her father, greet her this early in the morning. Oh, and he was rather good looking. 'Stop, stop, stop!'

Ron, because he was staring at a dangerously beautiful woman with flashing blue-green eyes; yes, her wand was pointing at him perilously, but he could look beyond that little fact.

Alanna blushed furiously. "I am so sorry," her wand disappeared as quickly as it was drawn.

"Don't worry about it. Harry usually reacts the same way when someone sneaks up on him," Ron was still gingerly leaning against the wall, his hands in his pockets, his feet crossed at the ankles. His damp hair falling past his chin and an impish smile playing on his lips.

"What are you doing here this early? You never make it out of bed before breakfast," Hermione had a suspicion of course, but kept those thoughts to herself.

"Hermione, love, you wound me!" Ron placed his hand above his heart in mock offense. "Besides, I feel it is my duty as a Gryffindor Prefect to show Alanna the castle."

His eyes traveled down Alanna's form.

"Right after I dress her properly."

"Excuse me?" Alanna took a step back, her mouth having gone dry at the feral gleam in his eyes.

Hermione rolled hers and asked Merlin for strength.

He slowly approached her, leisurely pulling his hands from his pockets, lifting them to her neck. Alanna stepped back on impulse, wondering if her concealment charm has faltered in anyway. With a small tug, Ron had pulled her tie from around her neck

'Blast! She had totally forgotten about that."

"We don't want Alanna to get into trouble for not following the dress code, now would we?" Ron stepped even closer and lifted the collar of her white blouse.

"Have you ever tied one of these before?" He expertly flipped the burgundy and gold tie over her head and around her neck.

"No, I have not. I did not have a school uniform at home, just the usual every day robes," his fingers brushed the front of her blouse and robes while he worked.

"I guess I will have to teach you then," he said cheerily and pulled Alanna to a huge framed mirror a few paces down the hall. He placed both of his hands on her shoulders, sliding her bag off her frame and situating himself behind her.

The heat of his body slowly penetrated the back of her robes, searing her skin. With deft movements, he proceeded to show her how to tie a proper noose around her neck, his fingers ghosting over her blouse ever so often. Thankfully, he could not see what kind of effect his innocent touch was having.

Ron felt everything else but innocent. He had her exactly where he wanted her and that scent was driving him nuts! He could feel the preliminary stirrings of something else as she minutely leaned into his body, while his hands were tightening the knot on her tie.

"There, all done," he breathed into her ear. Alanna shuddered at the warm assault.

"That was so nice of you to help out your new sister," Hermione said too sweetly before pulling on Alanna's hand.

'Did she have to remind me!'

"Thank you, Ron," Alanna called over her shoulder, bent at the waist to pick up her discarded bag.

'Oh, Merlin this is torture!' Ron suppressed a pained groan as Alanna's robe covered bum halted mere inches from his hardening groin.

'Cold shower, cold shower, cold shower.' Alright, this mantra was not working as well as the actual act of showering. 'McGonagall in leather, McGonagall in leather, McGonagall in leather.' Yes, that worked perfectly.

"Oi! Where are you two heading?" His mind had been to preoccupied to notice the two girls heading out of the hallway.

"Infirmary!" Hermione called back without a glance. Alanna looked back and gave him a small smile.

Ron shrugged. Maybe the smell of the hospital wing could wipe out that intoxicating scent of hers.

"Wait up!" Ron jogged after them.

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"You did not get much sleep last night, did you Miss Flint?" Madam Pomfrey stared down at the pale face of her charge.

"No, Madam."

"Will I have to keep you in the infirmary to ensure that you sleep at night?" Her voice was clipped with concern, her wand swishing madly at Alanna's form.

"And I see that you need more nutrient potion…" Poppy was mumbling to herself, completing the exam with a final wand movement.

"Sit right here, I will be back shortly," Alanna watched the nurse walk to the back of the infirmary.

"How do you _really_ feel?" Hermione asked her quietly.

Alanna sighed and looked up at the two concerned Gryffindors. "I ache all over and my muscles are sore," she stopped and took a deep breath, "but that is nothing, compared to not knowing what happened to me…I know it is in there," she touched her head with her fingertips, "however, the information is right out of my grasp, as if a thick curtain has been pulled over it. I know this must sound silly," Alanna laughed nervously.

"No, not at all," Hermione rushed to say, patting her new friend on the back. "You will know in due time, I am sure of it."

"Hermione is right you know, and after that crash you had in the Great Hall I am even amazed you know your own name," Ron sat down beside her on the infirmary cot.

"Your sense of tact is lacking this morning, Ronald," Hermione graced him with a stern look.

Before Ron could respond, there was a soft click of a door to their left. They watched an overly exhausted and tired looking Harry Potter emerge, his glasses clutched in his hand, while he donned his robes over his uniform.

"Harry!" Hermione and Ron both exclaimed, leaving Alanna's side to see to their best friend. He smiled lopsidedly in an effort not to worry them, which Alanna noted he miserably failed at doing.

"What happened, mate? I thought you were still sleeping!" Ron asked accusingly.

"It's nothing, guys, really. There was a revel last night," Harry spoke quietly.

Not quietly enough, however, for Alanna had heard him. A revel? What in the world was that?

"How bad was it?" Hermione whispered.

"Bad enough for me to ask Madam Pomfrey for assistance," Harry buckled his belt and pulled his grey sweater over the top of his pants.

Alanna gulped and averted her eyes quickly. How would she ever get used to these hormones raging war within her body? Just the sight of Harry raised her temperature a couple of degrees. Merlin must be punishing her for everything she had done. Perhaps she could brew a potion…

"Mr. Potter, you will eat a plentiful breakfast and drink this after," Madam Pomfrey had returned from her potions cabinet and handed Harry a blue coloured vial. "If you experience any more pain, come and see me."

"Now, Miss Flint," Madam Pomfrey walked to her side and handed her three vials. "Take the nutrient potion now," she tapped the first vial with her finger, "…and one sip after each meal from the pain reliever. And this one…"

"…Dreamless sleep. I will use it, thank you Madam Pomfrey," Alanna forced a smile and emptied the first vial in one go, depositing the other two in her robes.

"You will eat three meals per day, Miss Flint. If I hear that you have been skipping them you will be in a hospital bed for a week." Poppy gave her a poignant look.

"I shall eat," Alanna confirmed with a nod.

"Fantastic. Now, if you would vacate my ward, please, I have patients to attend to," the nurse turned and walked toward her office.

"Alright then," Ron sauntered up to Alanna. "May I escort you to the dining facility, Miss Flint?" He offered her his arm.

Hermione stared at him slack-jawed, while Harry let out a snort of laughter. Alanna looked at the two with a puzzled expression.

"Oh, don't worry about those two stuffed ninnies," Ron looked at them loftily. "They are only jealous of my ardent sense of chivalry."

Harry let out a bark of laughter. "That is twice in two days Ronald, don't hurt yourself."

"As I said, they are lacking the finer manners of life," Ron's eyes twinkled merrily, while Alanna took the proffered arm.

"Ronald I am honoured, please take me to breakfast," Alanna easily played into their banter. "Will you be cutting my chipolatas as well?"

"Your wish is my command, my lady," Ron placed his other hand over hers and walked her toward the double doors.

Harry coughed and cleared his throat before turning to a flabbergasted Hermione.

"Miss Granger, would you do me the immense honour of being my escort to breakfast?"

Hermione glanced at Harry with a smirk. "An 'escort,' Harry, is a paid companion, and I am not for hire," with hurried steps she followed the other two out of the hospital wing; Harry hot on her heels, blushing furiously.

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The Great Hall was nearly deserted, which suited Alanna just fine, giving her enough time to study it properly. It had been adequately named, for she found herself in a vast chamber that sported and enchanted ceiling, mirroring the early dawn sky. Four long tables for the four houses were lined up in rows, her own being on the far wall. Further down the hall was a longer table that had been raised on a platform, probably reserved for the staff of the school. She spotted only one teacher with a pointed witch's hat and emerald green robes breaking her fast, watching her make her way to her seat.

The smell wafting from the tremendous bowls of food made her stomach lurch and rumble indignantly. It had been ages since she had that bowl of soup for lunch yesterday. Ron lead her to their end of the table and gallantly kissed the back of her hand with a swooping bow, earning him a small curtsy in return.

"Thank you, kind sir."

"The pleasure was all mine, my lady," Ron bowed low over hand and rose quickly. "All of this chivalry has made me ravenous," he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Let's see what those crafty elves have cooked up this morning," and with those words Ron seated himself on the end of the bench, Harry slipping onto the seat next to him.

Hermione walked around the table and took the seat across from Ron, fervently patting the space to her right across from Harry for Alanna to sit down. Alanna complied all too willingly and placed her bag below her feet.

"Ron, you know well enough that those elves have been slaving away all night trying to prepare our breakfast," Hermione stated matter-of-factly.

'That is not a surprise, knowing who is in charge of the poor lot,' Alanna thought grimly to herself.

Ron filled his plate full of chipolatas, scrambled eggs, and toast, only relinquishing the serving utensils to Harry when his plate was overflowing.

"Hermione, don't start before I had a decent breakfast," he said tersely.

Harry filled his plate with less urgency, choosing a little bit of everything and a slice of toast. Alanna picked the first bowl that was available: porridge, and serving herself a small ladle of the hot, steaming oats. A little dollop of honey added that extra taste, taking it from bland slop to a highly delicious breakfast.

Hermione had finished arranging her plate, but continued talking to Ron about elfin rights.

"They should be able to take a rest after preparing dinner, not clean the castle and start breakfast before dawn."

"Read my lips Hermione: they-like-it!" Ron emphasized his comment by impressively forcing a whole chipolata into his mouth.

Alanna tried to keep her small snicker to herself and looked up at Harry across from her, who only rolled his eyes and winked.

"Now you are probably going to tell me that gnomes enjoy being tossed around like a moldy turnip," Hermione seethed.

"No, they are a household pest that rank lower than a moldy turnip, so tossing them around is perfectly fine," Ron emptied an entire glass of pumpkin juice in three drafts.

"How can you say that?" Hermione had forgotten the forkful of eggs that seemed to hover before her mouth.

Alanna looked down at her own meal and blinked at the small plate of fruit, eggs, and two chipolatas that had replaced the half-empty bowl of porridge. She looked up into the mesmerizing green eyes of her housemate, who smiled at her and silently urged her to eat up.

She stared at him for a good few seconds, assessing if he was being genuine or not. Nobody had ever really concerned themselves with something as minor as her eating habits. Alanna picked through her plate with her fork and decided to brave the thoughtful gift and eat a couple of forkfuls.

A stern voice pulled her from the sliced pieces of banana and strawberry. "Miss Flint, may I have your attention please?" Alanna looked up into the beady eyes of the emerald clad woman.

"I am Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor house," the professor handed her a sheet of paper. "These are the courses you will be attending this semester. I know that you will be a favorable asset to our house, and implore you to come see me if ever the need should arise," she smiled graciously at her.

"Thank you, professor," Alanna mumbled and took the parchment from her outstretched hand.

"I will see all of you in class," and with those parting words Professor McGonagall left the Great Hall.

"Oh, Alanna let me see what classes you are taking this term," Hermione barely contained her excitement.

Alanna carefully unfolded her parchment and looked up her Friday schedule. "I am starting off this morning with a double Transfiguration, followed by a double Care of Magical Creatures, and end with a triple Potions."

'Yes! Triple Potions!'

"That sounds similar to mine, although I have a double Ancient Runes instead of Magical Creatures. Harry and Ron have the same schedule though," Hermione looked at the boys across from her. "You two would not mind showing Alanna to class, right?"

"Ove corse no'," Ron said around a spoonful of hot porridge, while Harry nodded in the background.

Alanna looked over the rest of her schedule and noticed one missing. With a furrowed brow, she turned to Hermione, continually scanning over the parchment.

"I believe there must be a mistake here, Hermione."

Hermione put down her teacup and looked at the parchment. "Which one is it?"

"Music class," Alanna looked up confusedly.

Ron choked on his juice, and Hermione blinked a few times, while Harry stayed silent, yet again.

"Hogwarts does not have a music professor."

Alanna looked stunned, "You are kidding, correct?"

Hermione shook her head slowly. "Unfortunately, music is not considered a magical field of study. Most instruments are created and built by muggles, so the Ministry does not see fit to educate students in that art."

"There is no piano in the entire castle?" Alanna felt ill at the thought.

All three shook their heads slowly. "Do you play well?" Harry asked softly.

"I am alright, I suppose. My piano teacher kept harping on me that I did not show enough feeling while I played…" Alanna lost herself in the schedule she clutched between her fingers.

Hermione took a deep breath and stood from the table. "Alright, you lot, time for Transfiguration."

"But 'Mione I'm not done yet," Ron complained.

"But you can be done, right?" She grimaced at him.

His answer was a soft grumble that suspiciously sounded like 'mother hen', as they made their way into the Entrance Hall. Alanna tried to ignore all the stares she received from the other students, hopefully that would end soon enough.

Harry walked a few paces behind the group, watching the Slytherin reaction to their new addition. He did not like what he saw.

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After a quick detour back to Gryffindor tower for Ron's forgotten transfiguration book, the group had enough time to get to their class with fifteen minutes to spare.

Alanna sat toward the front of the classroom with Hermione, who had unpacked her bag with lightning speed and neatly assembled her quill, paper, and book before her. Alanna rummaged through her own bag and proceeded to unpack her book, opening it to the desired page that was indicated on the blackboard.

_Chapter 10: Conjuring spells_

'That is easy enough,' Alanna thought to herself, having been tested on them only a few months past.

The rest of the class filtered in gradually, greeting the other three Gryffindors warmly, stopping their idle chattering after glimpsing her beside Hermione. The room took on a thick layer of silence, only interrupted by a few giggles and excited whispering rippling through the ranks. She tried to ignore it as much as possible, immersing herself into the pages of her book.

The side door of the classroom opened and Professor McGonagall entered with a quick step.

"Good Morning, class."

"Good Morning, Professor," the entire class chimed in.

"Today we will cover the advanced techniques of Conjuring spells. Which one of you can tell me the incantation for this spell?"

Hermione's hand flew in the air.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"_Creo_, Madam."

The professor smiled at her. "Very good, Miss Granger."

The next forty-five minutes were spent listening to the professor lecture about the history of conjuring spells and the legislature passed by the Ministry of Magic banning any type of unlawful conjuring, such as people or different types of currency.

Hermione was the first to notice that Alanna had not taken a single note during the entire lecture. Professor McGonagall was the second.

"Alright, that concludes the lecture. Please, put away your books and quills for the practical application," with a quick wave of her wand, she moved the desks and benches to one side of the room, leaving ample space to move around.

"I need a volunteer to cast the spell," Professor McGonagall looked over the rims of her glasses.

"Miss Flint, step forward and conjure us an article of clothing," she had volunteered Alanna before Hermione could even raise her hand.

Alanna retrieved her wand from her robes, positioning herself a few feet away from the rest of the class. With a barely whispered "_Creo_" she executed a complicated wrist movement Professor Correlius had drilled into her. A few seconds later a black non-descript cloak appeared out of thin air, gliding into Alanna's outstretched hand.

A snicker could be heard a few feet down from her. "A cloak? Is that all you know how to conjure?"

"Mister Malfoy! You should realize by now that transfiguration is not always what it seems. Would you bring the cloak to me, Miss Flint," Professor McGonagall said brusquely.

Alanna looked over her shoulder and gave the tall blond boy an unblinking stare, and found that she just could not win. He was dressed as all the other boys in school, the only difference being the green accents to his uniform and a small badge on the front of his robes that indicated him as the Head Boy. He was too good looking for his own good, cold and sleek in his attempt to be intimidating. He seemed familiar somehow…

Professor McGonagall took the cloak from her grasp and inspected it.

"Ah, it is as I thought," she said cryptically. With a quick wrist movement, she revealed the lining of the cloak as being deep claret velvet, soft and supple to the touch. The front of the cloak was delicately embroidered with small silver Celtic knots, running down the side and the hem.

"Although the cloak may seem ordinary, Miss Flint has added multiple details that are difficult to produce. Very nicely done, Miss Flint. Twenty points to Gryffindor for you knowledge," Professor McGonagall gave her a small smile.

'Points?'

She looked back at the Head Boy and found him sneering at her in an ugly way. His beautiful face contorted in such a manner that it made him appear rather ridiculous.

"Now, Mr. Malfoy, please step forward and create an article of clothing for us," Professor McGonagall said tersely.

The blond boy sauntered toward the professor with a focused air of confidence, giving Alanna a sideways glance before beginning his incantation.

Harry and Ron were the first to start laughing. The conjured item was supposed to be another cloak, but featured pink, furry patches and a terry-cloth lining that looked as if he could not make up his mind between a cloak and a bath robe.

"As you see, Mr. Malfoy, conjuring items is harder than it looks," Professor McGonagall said with a small smirk around her stern lips.

She felt a light pat on her shoulder and turned to Harry who was smiling down at her. "Great job, Alanna. It seems Gryffindor has gained another brain."

She could feel another pat followed by a soft rub from Ron. "Yes, that was great!"

Alanna smiled a little and looked across the room at Hermione, who was beaming at her as well, along with a few other Gryffindors.

'Alright, Points are a good thing.'

The rest of the lesson was spent conjuring up other items that may be useful in future situations. Professor McGonagall came by a few times and asked her about Professor Correlius' teaching methods and to demonstrate her wand movement one more time. Before Alanna knew it, she had finished her first joint lesson of the year. Only eight more months to go. Unless she found a way out…

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Author's Note: Do not worry! I am about done with the next chapter. I could not have possibly posted a ten thousand word chapter, now could I? Special Thanks to my all my reviewers: ThouandI, Lucidity, Summerkins, Marc Darcy (I love rain!), and the precious LKLTB, who has been my 'Wit-guinea pig'. And of course all of my NEW reviewers: THANK YOU FOR COMING OUT OF THE WOODWORK AND TELLING ME WHAT YOU THINK! Heartsblood, Owlbait, Ladyknight, Kimara. Please, review again! Don't you think I deserve ATLEAST 100 reviews:wink:

Thank you to the talented Mysticsong, greatest beta in FF-kingdom (along with Pink's)

And finally, Thank you to my fantastic muse, PinkCorsair!


	17. The Art of

**Potions, What Would a Girl do without it?**

**By Slave4Severus**

**Disclaimer: If you still think I own any of it then you are just daft! Except of course Alanna and her family….and that Professor…and..well you know..LOL**

"That was pretty wicked in there," Ron grinned down at her as they walked through the Entrance Hall toward the double doors.

Alanna gave him a small smile as he opened one of the doors that lead to the grounds. A rush of crisp, cool air greeted them, along with a cloudless, deep blue sky. The wind and the sun played along the treetops in the distance. Alanna closed her eyes and inhaled the autumn air deeply. It felt like ages since she enjoyed a day outside and the fragrant air with such relish.

As they all walked down to where the class was held, Alanna found herself sandwiched by the two young men, who proceeded to talk about a type of sport over her head. She was thankful that they did not pay close attention to her trembling hands as she tucked a few strands of her hair behind her ear. All of a sudden, she felt the hair on the back of her neck rise, as though somebody was staring at her. With a quick look over her shoulder, she saw two rather burly looking guys behind them. Their robes were trimmed with the same green fabric as the Head Boy's had been, their expression murderous as they proceeded to crack their knuckles in a silent threat.

She furrowed her brow at the peculiar display and kept on walking, listening to Ron and Harry talk about broomsticks.

One minute she was walking down a meadow to a small hut and in the next, she found herself on the ground staring up into big, brown eyes and a pink tongue. She scrunched up her nose and giggled loudly as the dog proceeded to lick her face and neck, making little whining noises.

"Fang! Geroff her!" Ron pulled the boarhound from Alanna's fallen body; the dog promptly lunged once more while Harry pulled her disheveled form from the ground.

"We knew he was the friendly type, but I've never seen him react like this," Harry watched Ron struggle with the beast, as it continued barking excitedly at Alanna.

Cleaning off her hands on her robes, she looked down at the animal with a brilliant smile, prompting Ron to let go of it in surprise. Steeling herself for the impact, she leaned down and met him half way, petting the furiously licking dog while cooing soft endearments.

"Fang!" A booming voice interrupted her petting. The dog perked his big ears and turned his body halfway to gaze up at his very, very tall master.

"You know bet'er than tha'!" He gruffly said, Fang running to the side of his master.

"Hagrid, this is Alanna Flint," Harry made the introductions, while she whispered a cleaning spell over her muddy robes.

"Pleased to meet yeh," he shook her small hand with a little squeeze. "I've heard yeh enjoy the beasties?"

Alanna smiled up at him. "Yes, sir."

"Well, then yeh in for a treat," a smug smile formed on his ruddy face, turning his eyes into merry slits.

"Allrigh' you lot, get summat closer now," he called out to the rest of the class, as they gathered around a small clearing beside a huge pumpkin patch. In the middle of the clearing burned a rather big magical bonfire, its flames turning an assorted array of colours; the base glowed hot blood red.

"Harry I need you to come a bi' closer and call 'em for us. They're a wee shy now." Hagrid urged Harry to come closer to the fire, the rest of the class watching him apprehensively in a semi-circle.

In a fluid motion, Harry kneeled a few feet from the fire. "Saaaaayaaaccchhhhaasssasshheeeethhh."

Alanna froze, staring down at him in disbelief; if she had not heard it with her own ears, she would not have believed it. Parselmouths were very rare and mostly associated with dark wizards. She hated to admit it, but felt a twinge of something that could have been identified as jealousy.

Her view shifted slightly as a small grey head with ruby red eyes poked out of the fire.

"Ashwinder," she breathed softly and watched a small ash coloured serpent slither slowly toward Harry.

"This is wha' yeh call an Ashwinder. Yeh have probably heard abou' them in yer potions class. Their eggs are verra hot and can burn dow' houses summat fierce."

The Ashwinder had finally slithered far enough to encounter a hissing Harry. Alanna was fascinated by their interaction, the small snake forking its tiny tongue at his outstretched hand; something however caught the creature's attention behind Harry. With a soft hiss, it bypassed the young Parselmouth and aimed straight for Alanna's feet.

Harry turned with a surprised look that settled on her crouching form, the Ashwinder having reached its destination. The serpent stealthily slithered up her outstretched hand and under her robes where it coiled around her elbow, the tiny red eyes looking out from the darkness.

"All righ', everyone else gather roun' the fire and coax out yehr own Ashwinder. Your assignment is ter find them a good hidin' place for them to lay their eggs at. Be verra careful no' to touch the eggs! Professor Snape will be freezin' them a' the proper temperature," Hagrid ushered the remaining students, Ron included, to the magical fire where multiple Ashwinders have come from the fire, ready to lay their precious eggs.

Alanna felt the small tickle of the snake's tongue and laughed softly at its antics, carefully pulling up her sleeve and stroking its slick, grey scales.

"Do they always do that?" Harry had moved up closer to her and stroked the head of the serpent.

Alanna knew what he meant. "Yes, they do. Since I have been a toddler every type of animal has taken a liking to me," the snake hissed softly and twined itself between her fingers.

"Have you been always able to do that?" She looked up into his green eyes.

"I was not aware that I was a Parselmouth until I was about eleven years old, and even then I was not aware of speaking a different language," he smiled a bit and listened to the soft hissing of the snake.

"What is he saying?" She watched it slither toward her shoulder, before it hid under her mass of hair, draping itself around her neck.

"_She_ is telling me how special you are," his voice had lowered as he stepped closer, his eyes falling down to the base of her neck.

Alanna swallowed heavily. "Oh?"

"Yes," he said softly, raising his hand and touching…the snake. Alanna's pulse rate raced, staring up into his eyes that were so very close to her own. She did not even react to the soft hiss right by her ear, Harry however blinked and stepped back two steps.

"Are they good things?" she asked breathlessly.

He cocked his head to the side and smiled sweetly, "Would there be bad things if I'd ask?"

'Merlin she hoped not!'

"Should we go find a secluded spot for her?" She retrieved the wiggling Ashwinder from her neck and let it slither down her other hand toward Harry. Careful not to touch her, he let the snake slide onto his outstretched arm. Alanna walked in front of him, searching for their Ashwinders perfect egg laying spot.

"_Why did you feel the urge to go to her_?" He asked her quietly.

"_Ssshe iss magic_," she replied matter-of-factly.

"_We are all magic here_."

"_Thisss isss different magic. Ssssheee possesssses animal magic_."

Harry furrowed his brow. "Is_ it like my magic_?"

The Ashwinder became inpatient with him, "_No, you talk to usss. Ssshe hasss animal magic. It isss a powerful innate feeling of trussst her esssssence ssignalss to uss_."

"_Is this a dark type of magic_?" Harry had to make sure.

"_No. Her gift isss pure_," the snake coiled itself around his wrist and squeezed a bit.

Harry knew through experience that animals did not trust easily, always being weary of human contact, especially serpents. Alanna possessing a certain type of inner light that naturally attracted them said a lot about her character.

"How about this spot?"

Harry looked up and saw her kneeling before a small space between two boulders that seemed to be perfect for the Ashwinder, who hissed with appreciation. He kneeled opposite of her and let the snake wind itself to the ground, where it promptly slithered up to Alanna, hissing at her and blinking its little red eyes. After another rub from her fingers, the snake made its way into the dark alcove.

"What did she say?" Alanna asked him seriously.

"She said how fortunate she was to have met a human such as yourself before she died," Harry said softly. "And she wants you to have three of her eggs as a gift…her last wish."

She swallowed down her pity for the small creature.

"I will honour them appropriately."

Harry and Alanna held their silent vigil until a soft red glow emerged from the niche. She carefully got on her stomach and peered into the darkness, where the small form of the lifeless Ashwinder had curled itself around her burning nest of eggs. Harry got down next to her and pulled out his wand, before he could speak the levitating incantation, however, she touched the tip of his wand.

"No, let me…" her eyes never left the eggs as she pulled forth her own wand. With a small swish and a soft incantation, she separated three eggs from the nest. Her left hand forged through the pocked of her robes bringing forth the larger vial that had harboured her nutrient potion from this morning.

"Could you scurgify this for me Harry?"

He did without question and watched her work. With a soft incantation "_congelare suptile_" the eggs froze in mid air, turning from fire red to a light pink. He held out the vial in which she placed the eggs, corking it quickly and handing it to her. She glanced at them and replaced the vial in her pocket.

Alanna continued to levitate the eggs from their hiding place.

"You left one behind," Harry mentioned.

"Leave her one egg; she gave her life for them. She deserves not to have died for potion ingredients alone."

They both got up from their feet, Harry casting the cleansing spell on both of them while Alanna levitated the precious cargo toward Hagrid, who stood by the magical fire placing the gathered eggs into a fireproof container.

"Alrigh' now, class dismissed. Good work all o' yeh."

The students retrieved their things and headed off to the castle for the noon meal, all except for Ron, Harry, and Alanna, who helped Hagrid, extinguish the fire and clean up the clearing.

"That was a very informative class, Professor, thank you," Alanna smiled at him before she turned and walked toward the castle herself, leaving the three men behind.

"Did yeh hear tha'? Thank me, she did," Hagrid sniffled a little and walked toward his hut where Fang waited for him.

"She's a remarkable woman, isn't she," Ron said watching the sway of her hips as she walked up the slope of the meadow.

"You know what, Ron?" Harry watched her departure as well, "You have impeccable taste in women."

Ron grinned at him like a fool.

"Too bad she _is_ your sister."

Harry ran before Ron could whack him upside the head for his comment, laughing hard as they ran to catch up with Alanna.

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The Great Hall was packed with students and teachers alike, the noise level reaching a medium sized roar. Ron preceded them, of course, opening one of the double doors and walking over to the Gryffindor table. Alanna stopped before reaching it and took a deep, steadying breath.

"Are you going to be alright?" Harry asked her softly.

"I hope I will," Alanna sighed to herself, "I am not used to hordes of people…staring," she wrung her hands unconsciously.

"Never tell anyone that I told you this, or I may have to hex you," Harry looked down at her seriously. "Someone once said to me 'Celebrity is as celebrity does,' if you do not draw attention to yourself you will be fine," with those words, he pushed a confused Alanna into the Hall.

The clatter of silver on porcelain plates all but vanished, as did most of the conversation; everyone watching the journey of the famous pair. Alanna did her best to keep her chin up, homing in on a familiar face in the sea of strangers that made up her house table: Hermione, who smiled at her confidently nodding at Harry over her shoulder.

She quickly took the seat next to her roommate and deposited her bag beneath the table. Most of the chatter had returned to its previous decibel, making her feel confident in looking up from her lap. Harry, again, sat across from her smiling with assurance, while Ron gave her a little wink of courage. She returned their smile and helped herself to a scoop of Cottage pie and a Cornish pasty.

"Did you have a good class, Alanna?" Hermione was in the process of slicing a big, red apple.

"Yes, we had the pleasure of harvesting Ashwinder eggs. Rather fascinating, really."

"Yea you missed a good class Hermione," Seamus said two seats down, "there are snakes in existence that don't fancy Harry."

Alanna looked down at the boy who spoke with interest.

"Seamus Finnigan," he extended his hand over another boy's plate, and she shook it, "and this here is Neville Longbottom and Dean Thomas over there."

Alanna made a little wave at the other two who smiled back and nodded, something in her peripheral vision caught her eye however, forcing her to glance up at the staff table. There he was, all shrouded in blackness a menacing scowl overpowering his features, and staring right at her.

Oh. Sweet. Merlin. In the light of day, the man looked older than Methuselah! He had to be at least twenty years her senior. The heat of embarrassment crept up into her face.

Perhaps he was the sort of man only to be viewed by the light of the catacombs.

An evil little smirk materialized on his lips and she furrowed her brow in vexation. There was something about him that…

"You weren't eating that, were you?" Ron grabbed the Cornish pasty from her plate, effectively severing her connection with Severus.

"You know those are made with real Cornish Pixies," she said without hesitation.

Everyone at the table that was within hearing distance stopped and watched Ron bring the pasty to his mouth, stopping at her declaration. A few breathless seconds later the entire group started laughing and slapping Ron on the back, mocking him to take a bite of 'blue blighters.' He turned a bright red and placed the pasty back on her plate with a manly shrug, mumbling about having 'lost his appetite.' Alanna raised her brow at him in challenge.

"I'll get you back for that one," he smiled evilly at her.

"Great, I am looking forward to it," she replied smoothly, getting up from her seat with her bag in hand.

"I need to go upstairs before potions; would you like to accompany me?" Hermione asked gathering her own belongings.

"You read my mind," she said and followed her toward the doors, waving at the rest of the group.

A short while later, they both emerged from the Head's common room, Hermione sporting a full bag of books and Alanna carrying three different types of potion tomes in her arms.

"Do you think that the professor will have time to talk to me about my extra work in his field?" Alanna asked eagerly.

"I don't see why not. He is difficult, mind you, and very pigheaded in his ways, but he always has an ear for new theories," Hermione replied, not wanting to dishearten her enthusiasm.

"A _real_ Potions Master," Alanna mumbled under her breath.

Hermione had heard and smiled at the eagerness, she could not even remember the last time the word potions did not accompany a plethora of pained groans and 'greasy git' comments. To a degree, Alanna reminded her of a muggle student, experiencing things for the very first time, the fact that she was a pureblooded made this situation seem surreal.

With hurried steps, they descended the stairs into the dungeon, coming precariously close to arriving late. Alanna breathed in the familiar air and tried to calm her beating heart. She hoped they would cover the Soul-resurrection potion this term, the twenty parchment essay she completed a few weeks ago burning a hole into her satchel.

The sconces were not lit in their green hue of night, but sparkled a rich yellow colour that lit their way adequately as they reached the door to the classroom, left ajar only just.

They silently walked into the classroom, Alanna making up the rear and closing the door quietly behind her.

She could feel the eyes burning into her before she had turned to face the room. With a mounting sense of dread, she turned her body, seeking out their origin.

A loud crack echoed through the room as Alanna's books dropped to the floor.

"Ah, Miss Flint," he said softly. "Our new – celebrity _Gryffindor_," he said the last word with so much disgust that Alanna could feel indignation rise up from the pit of her fluttering stomach.

He was seated like the black clad Angel of Death at his desk at the front of the class, a look of pure loathing on his features.

"It seems you have competition in the art of Fame, Potter. Five points from Gryffindor for attempting a grand entrance into my class, Miss Flint. Now, pick up your books and seat yourself next to Mr. Longbottom," he sneered maliciously.

Alanna silently retrieved her wand to levitate her books to her assigned seat.

"_Manually_, Miss Flint. There will be no foolish wand waving here."

A soft snicker could be heard from the handful of Gryffindors in the class. His head snapped to their faces, his eyes black slits of suspicion, while Alanna picked up her books from the floor.

Straightening she searched out the face that belonged to Mr. Longbottom and found a quivering hand toward the back signal her to the empty chair next to him. 'Neville' she thought and made her way through the seated row of students to her seat.

"Now that you have wasted five minutes of class time with your clumsiness let me introduce myself," he fluidly rose from his chair and walked around his desk, leaning against it with crossed arms.

"My name is Professor _Snape_, resident _Potions Master _of Hogwarts. You will address me accordingly when you speak, is that understood?"

Alanna gritted her teeth and nodded.

"Is that _understood_?" his voice cut through the silence.

"Yes, sir, _Professor Snape_."

If his sneer could turn any crueler, it did then. "I do not believe I like your attitude Miss Flint." The students around her held their breath in fear what would come next. Alanna only stared at that familiar face of the man she thought to be the caretaker. All planes and angles, his age not apparent in the dim light of the dungeons and her body reacting to that insufferably sarcastic 'battle' they were having.

"Ten points for your cheek," with those words he dismissed her as if she were rancid slab of butter.

Her anger was beginning to bubble up into her pale face. 'How dare he try to lord his station over me this way.'

"I do not want any further interruptions from anyone for the rest of class. I have had my fill of insufferable half-wits," Professor Snape rounded his desk and pointed at the small blackboard, indicating them to begin their potions.

Alanna was furious with the man, her thoughts on telling him anything of what she had researched flying swiftly out of the non-existent window. Why did it have to be him? She would never be able to concentrate on her brewing now with _him_ stalking around the room.

"Would you like for me to bring you the ingredients?" Neville asked her shyly in a hushed voice.

"_Silence_, Mr. Longbottom!"

Alanna narrowed her eyes at his turned back and looked over at Neville, squeezing his hand reassuringly, before both got to their feet to retrieve their ingredients. She passed the blackboard on her way and stared at the potion that the class would attempt to brew.

Vanishing Serum.

Alanna's brows quickly came in contact with her hairline. Was he serious? She had studied and perfected that potion three years ago, Professor Correlius having stressed its importance to only placing an invisibility charm on oneself. She should have taken his advice last night when she had been found out. The potion would not have given her away, as the spell had.

"Is there a problem with your assignment, Miss Flint? Or do you make it a habit of gaping like a fish?" He had turned from the blackboard and graced her with a cold look down his crooked nose.

She returned his icy stare, unblinkingly. "No, sir."

"Is it that you need an engraved invitation to begin your brewing? Or are you too inept to read as well?" He smirked at his own jibe.

With a final look at his person, she moved to the school stores in search of ingredients. She walked into the dimly lit room as Neville came out smiling nervously at her. Proceeding to look up the alphabetized vials beginning with moonstones, picking up the jar and tilting it to the light, and finally scrutinizing its contents, finding it lacking.

There were only two moonstones left in the receptacle: their colouring and size not enough to brew the potion to her satisfaction. She replaced the jar and picked up the vial with the shredded male boomslang skin, the green texture differing greatly from the brown female. With an expert eye, she approved of the ingredient and moved on to the next: Peruvian Vipertooth scales. Thankfully, these looked like a fresh specimen, although the Jobberknoll blood and the blackened mandrake root could have been replaced a few months ago.

Alanna left the stores with two ingredients and made her way to her station.

"I do not know who taught you how to brew potions, Miss Flint, but at Hogwarts we require the full ingredient list to brew a potion. Would you care to explain why you are only carrying two of the five ingredients listed?"

Alanna stopped and turned to look at him. "I would rather not say, sir."

"Please, enlighten us. Unless of course you plan to use…other means…to produce the proper potion," a few people that she could identify as Slytherins snickered at this.

"If you must know, Professor Snape, your ingredients are not fresh enough to be used effectively for _any_ potion."

The smirk melted from his face, replacing itself with a blank expression with glowing coals for eyes. She had accomplished a goal of most students that were not Slytherins: utterly infuriating the Potions Master. One could have heard a pin drop inside the classroom and would have been deafened by the sound. Hermione closed her eyes and groaned to herself, while Harry and Ron prayed that Alanna would not be killed by Snape's temper.

"If you refuse to use the school stores for your assignment you will have to leave this classroom," he threatened.

Alanna raised a brow. "Not to worry, Professor, I have the ingredients needed. Unless of course you would like me to come back later and finish my potion after school hours," she hoped he remembered the Headmaster's allowance of using his facilities.

"Ten more points from Gryffindor for talking back, Miss Flint. Now get to work."

She turned and quickly took her seat, removing a small case of vials from her bag, enlarging it under her table with her wand. She lifted the darkly stained box onto the table's surface, carefully opening it and searching for the proper ingredients, holding them up to the light as well to assure herself of their potency. Satisfied she removed a beautifully coloured moonstone, fresh mandrake root, and a full vial of Jobberknoll blood.

Neville stared in awe at the rows of small vials, rapidly becoming interested in the rarer bottles of dried plant essence.

With a practiced flick of her wrist, she ignited the fire beneath the cauldron placing the moonstone into the center of the distilled water. A few minutes past and the water bubbled happily within, emitting multi-coloured steam. She casually glanced at Neville, watching his fumes turn a nasty mud colour, and quickly moved over to her potions 'kit', getting another moonstone to replace the sad excuse he was working with.

Without saying a word, she placed the stone on the table between them and pushed it toward his side. Thankfully, Neville understood immediately and quickly took his cauldron off the fire, carrying it to the front of the classroom where two huge washbasins were located.

"What do you think you are doing, Mr. Longbottom?" Professor Snape looked up from his grading and pierced the boy with his black eyes.

"Rrr..rebrewing my potion, sir," he explained feebly.

Within seconds, the Potions Master loomed dangerously over Neville's cauldron, judging for himself if the liquid had to be discarded.

"Your potion was progressing adequately…" Neville looked up at him in surprise, "now, however, your results will be jaded having taken your cauldron from the fire. You would think that after six and a half years you would get that into your thick skull, Longbottom."

Neville visibly cowered from the professor.

"Go back to your station and try to fix this mess," he growled in parting, Neville doing his best not to look too put out, as he returned to his seat.

Alanna could not believe her ears. How could he be so unfair! To top it all off it was _his_ bloody fault the moonstone was unusable.

Neville heaved his cauldron back onto their table with a sigh, placing it back onto the fire. Alanna moved as quickly as she could, dropping her wand from her sleeve into her waiting hand and softly speaking incantation that would clean the cauldron of its content, stone and all, her eyes never leaving professors form.

Neville blinked and gave her a quick look of astonishment. How could she have done that without Snape noticing?

Alanna pushed the stone at him once more and he took her cue and placed the ingredient into the rapidly filling cauldron, then placing it on the magical flames.

For two full hours, the class worked in silence; the occasional sneer coming from the hovering professor as he made his way through the ranks to investigate oddly fuming potions. Alanna had kept an eye out for Neville, who seemed to have a knack for either stirring improperly and or adding the wrong substance to his brew. She had caught him four times before he blew either of them up by lightly placing the tips of her cold fingers on his wrist, looking up from her own cauldron at the prowling Potions Master. Neville had stopped his actions immediately and either reread the instructions on the blackboard or watched her grasp her ladle firmly to show him the proper stirring procedure.

She never said a word. She never looked his way.

Neville knew that either would have tipped Professor Snape off to what she was trying to do. Oddly enough, he had learned more in this triple period than he had all term.

"Mr. Longbottom, I have not heard the telltale signs of your failure?" Neville jumped at the cold sneer right behind him. "Has anyone been helping you?"

Neville gulped.

Alanna had to bite her tongue. Hard.

All she wanted to do was turn around and wipe that sneer off his perfectly pale features. She could feel his eyes on her once more, burning right through her head. Carefully removing her ladle and placing it beside her station, she tried her best to ignore the insufferable …heavenly smelling…most erotically voiced….brute… '_Oh, bloody hell!'_

"Well? Answer me boy," he had moved around the table to face them both.

"No, sir."

He tried; Alanna had to give him that much.

"Mr. Longbottom. Has it ever occurred to you that lying could possibly infuriate me to such an alarming degree that you would feel the after affects of my wrath up until you graduate? IF you graduate?"

"Is this what happens when a Master of Potions decides to teach?" Her voice was soft, but everyone heard it, including…

"_What_ did you say?" A muscle had begun to tick in his tightly clenched jaw.

"I am sure your hearing is functioning perfectly, Professor," she said meeting his icy gaze.

"I will not take this type of insolence in my class. You will remove yourself from my sight at once."

Cold.

Furious.

Sexy.

With a narrowing of her eyes, she shifted and concentrated on removing her completed potion from the fire. With trembling hands, Alanna quickly ladled a sample into a clean vial and stoppered it with a cork. A few spells later, she moved to place her belongings into her bag, vial still in hand.

All students, even the Slytherins, were shocked at her backbone and reckless tongue; all movement having ceased during their confrontation.

"I will be watching you, Miss Flint," his voice was soft and seductive. Not that he was trying to be seductive; however, his voice sounded seductive even when he was angry and growling. Alternatively, perhaps it was _especially_ when he was angry and growling, Alanna was not entirely sure.

"You and everyone else who thinks it is necessary to keep me in this castle," she responded tartly.

"My position demands your respect!" he hissed at her, his face only inches from hers.

"Respect is earned, _Professor_," she spat out the name as if it were the Dark Lord's own, "and you, sir, cannot expect me to respect a man who demoralizes his students every chance he gets."

With those words, she thrust the vial at his chest and walked toward the classroom door, ignoring the stunned faces of the students.

"Perhaps you will learn that respect tonight."

She stopped in her tracks.

"While serving a four hour detention with our _caretaker_, Mr. Filch," he said smoothly.

Alanna strode out of the classroom, the door slamming behind her with a satisfying smack. Sweet Merlin, she would make him pay for this!

As soon as she found out what detention actually entailed.

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**Author's Note: **_congelare suptile – _Roughly translated, Latin for 'freeze delicately or gently'.

To ALL OF MY REVIEWERS: Thank you kindly for your words of encouragement! You are all loved greatly old and new! Please, let me know what you thought of this chapter! I need a day or so for a break, but I'll resume writing ASAP.

Thank you to Mysticsong, or rather Mysticsnog, for her great beta skills!

Thank you to my muse…who…must have..missed..my last email…:SNIFFLE: PinkCorsair!


	18. Dangerous Delusions

**Potions: What would a Girl Do without It?**

**By Slave4Severus**

**Disclaimer: I still do not own any of J.K.R. characters. Even though I wish I did.**

**_Author's Note_**: If you can't remember the interesting dream Alanna had in chapter 14, I would advise to read that section over. Happy reading!

* * *

Five day old kippers.

Alanna tried to hold her breath while walking down the second floor hall for her detention that evening. She had been so furious after being evicted from her potions lesson that she marched directly toward the entrance hall and out into the fresh air. After an invigorating walk by the shores of the lake, she sat beneath a large oak tree, gazing absentmindedly over its rippling waters.

What had gotten into her? She had never been disrespectful to an authority figure before, but somehow the Potions Master brought out the worst in her.

_And the best._

The small voice in her head whispered saucily. She cradled her head between her hands and rubbed her eyes furiously. This was turning out to be too much to bear. Not only were her hormones raging after their five-year dormancy, but also her body seemed to crave the attentions of a man. Any man, it seemed.

To top it all off she was alone. They had not even given her the proof she needed to bury her parents properly; and her blasted memory loss was not helping either!

She had risen from her spot and returned to a waiting Headmaster who had silently been waiting for her arrival only twenty feet behind her; her eyes met his wizened blue ones, realizing that her last attempt at leaving had made the man cautious. Escaping again would be tricky.

Dinner was another uncomfortable ordeal. Most of her housemates were torn between admiration for 'telling off the greasy old bat' and being miffed over the loss of house points. After Hermione had explained to her how the point system worked, she was tempted to roll her eyes in exasperation. The professors could not keep order amongst the students and thus created a system of rewards and punishments that were positively reinforced with a 'cup' at the end of the year that all the students vied for, creating a bloodthirsty animosity between the houses. Need she think _more_?

She ate the rest of her dinner in silence not wanting to look at the staff table where Professor Insufferable-and-Sexy graced the last chair. When the hour of her detention grew near she formally excused herself from the Gryffindor table and briskly walked out the door, numerous sets of eyes following her.

Before Alanna realized her predicament as to where this 'Mr. Filch' resided she heard Ginny call out to her beyond the double doors.

"Wait up, Alanna!"

She turned and watched the redhead run the short distance, catching up to her at the base of the staircase. They had made their way to the second floor, Ginny prattling on about Mr. Filch's unsanitary habits, usual punishments, and overall bad temper. At the mouth of the hallway leading to his office, she gave Alanna's arm a reassuring squeeze.

"Don't let him know that you detest the work. He will only ream you harder," she smiled encouragingly and pushed her toward the darkened hall.

'_Ream_?'

As she walked a few paces, a pungent smell hit her with a force of a thousand bricks.

Five-day-old kippers. Absolutely disgusting.

Alanna straightened her spine as she faced the old oak door leading to Mr. Filch's office, raising her curled fingers to softly rap on it. Her hand never made contact, as the door was ripped open from the inside with brute force, replacing it with the cantankerous form of the caretaker, who promptly sneered at her and gave her an assessing glare.

"Get in here, Flint! Professor Snape has told me all about you…"

He shuffled his grimy person back into his small room lit only by a single oil lamp suspended from the ceiling, its flickering light dousing the space into a dreary gloom. The smell, if even possible, had become more overwhelming, forcing Alanna's eyes to tear mercilessly while she attempted to re-swallow her dinner. A soft clanking noise caught her attention as she looked up at the ceiling for a closer inspection, finding various shackles, manacles, and chains hanging from the ceiling.

"You will not give me any lip, eh? Or the Professor will hear about it and will punish you worse than I will."

The man cracked a yellow-toothed smile around his patchy beard while his eyes danced with anticipation.

"Sit down over there," he pointed toward a rickety three-legged stool that had been wedged between one of the numerous file cabinets marked 'Confiscated and Highly Dangerous.'

Alanna sat down cautiously, careful not to lean her back against the dirty, stone wall behind her. With a good dose of trepidation, she watched him walk over to a small lever mounted on the wall behind his overflowing desk, and pull it firmly.

The deafening crash of metal chains hitting the stone floor made her jump out of her chair with a soft cry.

Her shock was interrupted by a mirthless chuckle. "The polish is over on the filing box, the rag is over by the rubbish bin."

She looked at him incredulously. Did he expect her to…

"Well, what are you wait for, gel? Get to work! And don't lemme see you do magic neither, or the Professor will hear of it!" He shuffled his feet over to his chair by the hearth and settled himself into it, stretching his legs out as best he could without wincing too much. He grabbed a snifter filled with amber liquid and brought it to his tight lips, while his eyes narrowed at her non-existent progress.

"Well? What's the matter, Flint? Too pureblooded for manual labor?" He cackled at his own little joke, while Alanna's eyes narrowed.

What was it with these people and wanting to do everything 'manually'? Why could she not just do it the normal way?

She quickly got to her feet and retrieved the necessary materials to clean his less than savory instruments of torture. With a sigh she kneeled on the floor and began cleaning the first pair of manacles, scrubbing at them fiercely as if the devil himself were looking back at her from the polished steel. The picture of the Potions Master flitted through her mind, forcing Alanna to grit her teeth and scrub all the harder.

'That insufferable brute!'

"What did you say?"

'Oh Merlin, did I just say that aloud?'

"I believe I just said 'That insufferable brute'," she said nonchalantly, while scrubbing away. What did she care what he thought of her.

"You dare to call me…me…insufferable?" His bloodshot eyes were bulging nefariously.

Alanna looked up in surprise. "Oh, no sir, not you. I hardly know you."

"Then explain yourself, gel!" Spittle and alcohol sprayed forth from his mouth coating the already filthy floor before the fireplace.

Alanna continued her polishing before responding. "I was referring to the man that calls himself the Potions Master in this institute. He is a right bastard, is he not?" 'A right sexy bastard with a heavenly voice and….

Her thoughts were interrupted by Mr. Filch's heavy coughing…that turned into spluttering…that turned into…giggles? Alanna looked up from her work, watching the man wipe away the tears that have been streaming down his face.

"You're different from the other Flint's that have come through my door, that I will give yeh." He shook in his head in amusement, his matted hair only moving a fraction in reply.

Alanna continued buffering, her eyes widening in surprise. "My father has been in your office?" She could hardly contain her curiosity.

A bark of laughter rolled forth from his sour face. "Your father, your uncle, your cousin. Even your mother has been here on occasion. Did hate those shackles she did, but then this is detention and not ruddy tea-time at Madam Puddyfoot's."

Alanna's heart tightened at the thought of her classy mother sitting in this office cleaning this heap of metal. The woman had never even so much as broken a nail around Alanna, let alone any type of manual labor, other than lifting the latest _Society Witch_ catalogue.

"Your cousin on the other hand was a right nasty little blighter."

She could not agree more on that fact and nodded her head unconsciously.

"He'd get himself into trouble for being cruel to the younger years in his and other houses. Found him going through my cabinets one night," his eyes flashed with malice, "still remember his Nancy-boy screaming when he had to go into the Forbidden Forest to collect some potion ingredient for his detention."

Alanna had to bite her tongue before she actually laughed at his story. That would probably explain Marcus' unexplained fear of the forest around the manor four years back, when playing 'Catch-the-little-cousin-to-practice-your-hexing,' which was a favorite past time of his. On more than one occasion did Alanna run into the cooling darkness of the shielding trees knowing her dim-witted cousin was too frightened to follow her. She never appreciated being hexed with a jelly legs jinx, or rather, _badly_ hexed with a jelly legs jinx, which usually ended up with her legs going numb, rigid and enflamed instead. Despite being a pure blood, Marcus had no grasp of the finer pronunciations of the Latin that charms and hexes required. On top of that, to say his knowledge of proper wand-technique was lacking had been a gross understatement.

Bloody lout was a menace!

"Your uncle was very similar while he was here, although he loved to ride on the coat tails of the powerful. Got him in right spots of trouble, it did. Had him scrubbing the floors in the Astronomy tower, they get quite grimy during the school year."

Mr. Filch took another swig from his half-empty glass before he continued, staring into the fire lost in thought.

"Your father was quiet. Only had him here three times or so," he chuckled softly, "I can still feel those eyes burning in the back o' me head."

He shifted his gaze back to where she kneeled. "None of them spoke ill of their Head of House though."

"Professor Snape is not my Head of House, sir, he is only my Potions professor," Alanna had moved on to the second pair of shackles.

"You got a lot o' guts to say he's only your Potions professor. The man will make your life miserable if you break the rules around him, be forewarned. He has already cast you off onto me instead o' heading the detention himself. On a Friday night no less!" He sneered at her again. "Better watch yer step, Flint."

"I am sorry that I am disturbing your evening, sir," she said in a small voice, a heavy burdening feeling befalling her.

Mr. Filch's face turned puce and he shook with suppressed anger. "Get back to work, gel, I am warning yeh! You'll be stuck in detention for another fortnight if yeh don't stop this m…"

"Brrrreeoowww!"

"Mrs. Norris?" His voice changed instantly to a sugary sweet whine, as they both watched the rather mangy and emaciated Mrs. Norris walk through the little cat flap by the side of the door. With a few more sugared words, he tried to entice the feline to come to him, but was silenced upon seeing his precious pet saunter over to the 'Flint delinquent' instead.

Alanna carefully laid down her work and ruffled her fur lightly, brushing her fingertips across the delicate ears and pert little nose. The purring that followed was deafening. With a soft thud, Mrs. Norris dropped beside her rolled on her back exposing her belly for a good scritch.

"What have you done to my cat?" Alanna looked up at the caretaker who had pulled himself out of his chair and now towered over her kneeling form, his fists tightly balled at his side.

"She is beautiful."

"Answer the question! Did yeh hex her? Do yeh take pleasure out of torturing poor, defenseless animals?" Mr. Filch's colour had turned an angry purple in his rant.

Alanna was outraged by his attack. "I beg your pardon!"

"You did something to her Flint! Look at her! This is not normal behavior!"

She looked down at the purring cat as it chose at this moment to yawn happily, stretch, and playfully batting at her robe; her lamp-like eyes lidded with content.

"But sir, this is the way cats normally act."

"Not my Mrs. Norris. She only likes to be handled by me, I tell yeh! She hates the likes of yeh and the rest of the blasted students, who kick her, lock her in closets and throw her down flights of stairs," with a quick gesture he stooped and picked up his familiar, pressing its thin frame against his chest.

She understood then that this most be the only friend the caretaker had. That poor little animal he held clutched as if his life depended on it had just chosen her affection over his; naturally, he would be jealous and upset. Her heart went out to him, but by the looks of Mrs. Norris, she seemed too fragile to make it through another winter; her death rattle purr being one indication.

"How old is Mrs. Norris?"

"I told you to get that hex off of her!" He snarled in response.

Alanna rolled her eyes at him. "Mr. Filch, I have not harmed or hexed your cat in any way, and am only concerned about her health."

"She is of no concern of yours, Flint!"

She took a deep breath and asked Merlin for strength. "I was only asking about her age because she is rather frightful looking. What have you been feeding her?"

"OUT! GET OUT OF ME OFFICE! I WILL TELL THE HEADMASTER OF THIS!" With one hand clutching Mrs. Norris, the other pointing toward the door and every major vein in his neck protruding in fury, Mr. Filch deliberately cut her detention short.

Alanna ignored him.

"Has she been sleeping a lot lately? Has her fur always looked dull and tangled? Have her habits changed lately?" She sighed in resignation. "Mr. Filch, I never prided myself in knowing a lot, but of one thing I am certain. Mrs. Norris seems to be sickly and I would like to offer my help to you."

Silence.

"I don't need anyone's help," he spat quietly.

She looked at the furry face that starred back at her from under his arm, still blissfully purring. "No, you do not, but Mrs. Norris does." She took a deep breath.

"Have you considered bringing her to Professor Hagrid?"

"I'm not letting that big 'ol sap near her! He could crush her to death with his bare hands," he grumbled sullenly, while shuffling back to his armchair by the fire.

Alanna turned, folding the rag she had been using, placing it and the bottle of polish on one of the filing cabinets. She was about to exit the room with her bag slung over her shoulder when his soft voice stopped her.

"She will be twenty-four in November. I have been feeding her fried sardines mostly, or leftover kippers from breakfast. Sometimes she catches her dinner along with the rest of the cats in the castle."

She looked over her shoulder at him. He looked frail in the fire light, stroking Mrs. Norris fur as if it were the softest, most expensive Egyptian silk.

"She's been sleeping a lot in the past months, napping in windows or in the Restricted Section on an old sofa. Her fur is becoming rather patchy in places, and she has been patrolling less with me lately. She used to be such a sprightly cat…"

Alanna swallowed heavily. "There is a potion that I think may help, if you would let me finish my detention in the potions lab…"

He looked to her sharply. "Don't do me any favours, Flint."

"I am not," she walked to the door. "You forget, I hardly know you."

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

The owl descended fluidly over the sea of heads, finding its target, and diving in for the landing. With a graceful flap of its wings, it hovered and landed at the end of the massive table, soundlessly offering its cargo to the assigned recipient.

"What's this Draco? A love letter from your lady?" The dark haired wizard gave him a small smirk over his goblet of pumpkin juice.

"Your preoccupation with my letters has been rather alarming, Zabini," Draco arched a golden brow. "If I didn't know better, I would say your parents gave birth to a girl."

Blaise laughed at that. "In your dreams, Malfoy," he quipped, quirking a lop-sided grin at him before returning his attention to his evening meal.

Draco steeled his shoulders and focused on the letter that was offered to him by one of his fathers fastest owls, its scaly leg extended regally. With nimble fingers, he divested it of the letter, hardly noticing the bird fly off without waiting for an answer, and opened the envelope, pulling forth a sheet of Malfoy watermarked parchment.

"What is your father writing to you, Drakie?"

He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at the insipid creature hanging off his arm, insisting that 'Drakie' was his new pet name. His father had insisted that he propose to Pansy Parkinson over the summer holidays, forcing him to furiously court the wench, while their mothers made the plans for an impromptu June wedding after graduation. How he hated his life at times!

He looked down at the petite blonde with a cold expression. "Family affairs, darling. I will meet you for patrol tonight," he brushed a gentlemanly kiss over her knuckles and took his leave. Her "But Drakie!" being ignored, as his long strides carried him out of the Great Hall.

Within minutes, he found himself surrounded by the blissful solitude of his common room, sitting in his favorite armchair by the fire. He thought about getting a glass of the expensive Fire whiskey he had received for his birthday, but decided against the impulse as he leisurely unfolded the parchment.

_Draco,_

_The following needs to be implemented post haste; any defiance on your part will be punished severely. You will watch and monitor Hogwarts' new arrival over the next few weeks, making sure you get into her 'good graces'. Keep Pansy close, but do what you must to assure a connection to the other. If all goes as planned, you will not have to change your fiancé; be prepared however. The next Hogsmeade weekend is coming in two weeks. Make sure she is going._

_Lucius Malfoy_

Draco crumbled the parchment between his perfectly manicured fingers before throwing it into the flames. He hated being manipulated like this! On the other hand, this could mean a breach in contract with the Parkinsons, and he was more than happy to rid himself of that nuisance. He would get to Flint and make her privy to all of his charms without Pansy knowing a thing; besides she did not look as unfortunate as many other girls; and she was pureblooded to boot.

Thank Merlin he did not have to put the moves on Granger. THAT would have been a catastrophe. Well, he was not considered the Slytherin Sex God for nothing; he would give her four days to succumb to his wiles.

Draco's smirk was feral. Flint would be his for the plucking.

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

Alanna walked briskly down the dungeon stairs, hoping to find an empty classroom to fulfill her needs for the evening. Her face was flushed and her palms were sweaty, partly because she was anxious about meeting Professor Snape, but also because of the looks she had gotten from a few Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw boys. Odd looks. The kind that made you feel naked and vulnerable. The kind that made you want to rip off your clothes and…and…and what exactly?

"Flint."

Alanna came out of her stupor and looked at a thirteen-year-old boy from Slytherin, nodding his head respectfully in passing.

Strange.

With a furrowed brow, she gave a quick glance over her shoulder before turning into another corridor, cutting him from her sight. With a small shake of her head, she turned her attention to the darkened hall, the flames in the wall sconces gradually turning green, turning down another hallway in search of the Potions lab. Had it not been here earlier? The sound of footsteps alerted her to three sixth year Slytherin girls coming down the hall, their voices muted and falling silent upon seeing her.

"Flint."

"Hey there, Flint."

"Have a nice evening, Flint."

'What the bloody hell is going on here?'

The girls passed her as she neared the Potions classrooms, all nodding courteously without missing a step, or ogling at her. Alanna turned around and watched them dumbfounded while they turned the next corner and walked out of sight. She had no idea what was happening, but these turn of events were infinitely better than the staring and the whispering.

Sooner than she thought, Alanna was faced with the three doors of the Potions classrooms. Her class was held behind the second door, and the younger years were behind the first…perhaps the third would be the right choice? She tentatively walked toward it and firmly clasped the doorknob, turning it silently.

Opening the door slightly, she peaked through the sliver of dim light emanating from the room.

Blissfully empty, thank Merlin.

Working as quietly as she could, Alanna retrieved the heavy potions book from her rucksack and clutching it to her chest before silently stepping into the muted classroom. She breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted the door to the storage closet at the front of the lab.

Soon a magical fire was burning beneath her cauldron, the light in the lab had been elevated, the book had been turned to the correct page, and fresh ingredients placed carefully beside her station. There was only one thing missing; distilled Australian tea tree oil. Although it was not difficult to acquire, her vial had been empty for a few weeks now. She had to remember to owl the Apothecary in London post haste to replenish some of her more elusive ingredients. Alanna hoped the school stores had what she was looking for, or rather a _fresh_ supply of the product she needed.

Without second thought she walked toward the door of the stores, her mind filled with correctly preparing the potion. Alanna deftly turned the doorknob and was propelled backward by a surprising number of wards protecting it.

Wondering why the school stores would be this heavily warded she retrieved her wand from her sleeve and began the tedious work of decoding and lowering them. Although they were rather difficult, she managed to get past them ten minutes later, opening the door with a turn of her wrist and entering the pitch-black room beyond. As she stepped over the threshold numerous sconces flared to life, including a large candelabrum placed on a French walnut desk at the center of the spacious circular room. The focuses of the room were the three large golden cauldrons simmering away next to an arched worktable, fitted perfectly against the wall. The dying fire in the hearth sprang to life with a loud rush beneath a sparsely decorated mantelpiece; a huge empty frame above it was the only decoration. The dark and hazy room was replaced with glowing apricot warmth that utterly contradicted the person who brewed here.

She had stumbled across the brilliant private laboratory of the resident Potions Master.

That little rebellious streak she had running through her veins began pulsing hotly beneath her skin. Her eyes lit with the possibility of what could be hiding in the drawers of that alluring desk and the bubbling contents of each cauldron. She silently walked around the desk touching the stack of essays sitting in three neat piles before four different types of inkwells. Carefully leaning down she read one of the vigilantly scratched comments on the top of an essay.

'A disgrace such as this drivel makes me wonder if it has been a mistake to admit you into Hogwarts. I will personally evict you from my class if you…' Alanna could hear his sarcastic, silky voice echoing in her head. Her eyebrow arched at his snarky words. With encouragement such as this it did not surprise her that he was not very popular; not even his looks could make up for such a lashing.

Straightening her spine, she let the fingers of her right hand lightly trail over the silver brass handles of the first desk drawer, lightly pulling it toward her.

A soft gasp escaped her lips as her eyes fell upon a sleek silver mask, a very familiar looking silver mask. Her trembling hands reached and brought it closer to her face. How had the Professor gotten to her fathers mask? Alanna flipped it over and looked at it from both sides.

There was no doubt in her mind that this belonged to her father, having seen it in his hands on multiple occasions. He would only wear it when he was called on business; her mother had mentioned that it was to ensure her father's anonymity while negotiating foreign affairs. It did make sense, based on all the different Wizarding cultures around the world; a wrong look could deeply offend a foreign wizard.

The question, however, was what was the professor was doing with the mask?

Moreover, there was something else; Alanna could not quite put her finger on it. A flash of something familiar, of someone…standing before her… wearing… She blinked furiously in an attempt to focus her mind on that shred of memory that returned into the fog.

Alanna sighed in frustration, restoring the mask to its original position. She had a nagging suspicion that the good Professor was not being truthful with her. What had they said about her parents? They were killed by…she could not remember if they said or not. Her days in the infirmary were rather blurry as well. It was time that she did some serious thinking about the death of her parents. She would find their killer if it was the last thing she would ever do on this earth. By Merlin's wand, she swore to avenge them, followed closely by the lunatic who tried to kill her as well.

Her eyes fell upon a black book with the initials S. S. embossed upon it with shiny silver thread. She felt the hypnotizing pull of its calling pages, beckoning her to open and read what the Professor has hidden between its pages. She opened it to the first page with anticipation, reading the heading of the first entry.

'If you have acquired this book by means of thievery or any other underhandedness consider yourself cursed…'

The inscription continued for two more pages, hexing and cursing the reader for eternity if they were brave enough to continue beyond page three. Alanna smirked and began thumbing through its pages, finding new research methods and other privately scribbled notes on his art.

"Severus, I want you to know…wait, you aren't supposed to be in here!"

Alanna jumped in surprise, accidentally dropping the journal beneath the desk, while looking around the room for the origin of the voice.

"Do you know that you have trespassed into the Head of Slytherin House's private office?"

Alanna looked up above the mantel and looked at the elderly gentleman in the picture dressed in robes a few hundred years past the current fashion. His brown hair neatly coifed hair and dark beard trimmed with old English flair, his dark eyes were piercing her accusingly and his jaw set firmly in agitation.

"What is your name? So, I shall know whom to report to Professor Snape."

This was it. The moment she had been waiting for. The window of opportunity that would expel her from this school had opened oh so gloriously.

"I am Alanna Flint."

"Which house do you belong to, girl?" He placed his hands on his hips as he leaned down to inspect the colors on her robe.

"I am in Gryffindor, and who are you to ask me such a question?"

Her insolence both angered and intrigued Salazar. Leave it to a slip of a girl who had the characteristics of Gryffindor to stand up to him in this impertinent manner.

"I am one of the forefathers of Hogwarts."

Alanna pushed the desk drawer back in place and came closer to the painting for a better look.

"Ah, well, then you must know the fastest way out of this cast—"

A cold sense of foreboding washed over her body one second before a claw-like grip took hold of her right shoulder, squeezing her flesh painfully. Her body was forcefully turned around as her mind processed who had her gripped in a vice.

Her eyes connected with his raging obsidian depths, his lips contorted into a furious snarl while his left hand positioned itself around her neck. Again!

"We have to stop meeting like this, Professor," Alanna gasped through the tightening of her windpipe.

Severus could not remember ever being this enraged before.

He wanted to strangle her.

He wanted to beat her.

He did the next best thing.

He released her neck and grasped both her shoulders shaking her soundly, his face coming dangerously close to her own. "What do you think you are doing in here!" he seethed.

"I was not aware…"

"_That_ is blatantly obvious!"

Her eyes traveled along the hard lines of his face, lingering on his slightly pursed lips.

"What else is becoming more obvious, Miss Flint, is the reason your parents felt the urge to hide you away from the rest of the world."

Alanna went rigid and stared into his eyes.

"If it were I, _I_ would have locked such an _abomination_ away myself, in hopes of never having to expose it to civilized society."

She swallowed hard, his words striking her deeply and planting a seed of doubt within. Her deepest and darkest fear lay unspoken between them, until…

"How ashamed they must have been of their only offspring," he hissed into her ear, his warm breath caressing the sensitive shell.

"Then again, you are the ideal representation of the Flint family," he sneered coldly. "A sharp tongue does not mean you have a keen mind."

Alanna was tempted to burst out into tears and snog him at the same time. In an attempt to avoid either, she desperately nibbled on her lower lip.

"Ah, yes here is the resemblance," he breathed icily. "As all the other Flints, you are insolent, dim-witted, physically and mentally inferior, and in strong need of a good thrashing for breaking and entering."

His face slowly changed into a glittering mosaic as her eyes filled with tears.

"I will ask this only once," his face only a few inches from hers, "What were you searching for in my office?"

"I was not…"

"Be very careful, Miss Flint. Lying will only get you closer to the well deserved thrashing I am only too happy to give you," his voice taking on a promising lilt. "Or perhaps, you have already taken something of mine that needs extracting from beneath your robes?"

A stifled groan escaped her throat, her eyelids drooping at the thought of his hands roving over her body in search of whatever he was looking for. She hated herself for being so affected by his presence, his words hurting her deeply.

"Do not dare touch me!"

Alanna was fighting a mix between rage, terror, and burgeoning desire with a good dose of hatred.

"And what exactly will you do to stop me, Miss Flint?"

Severus could feel her hot, angry breath on his face contrasting the chill that had settled over the dungeons. He was so close to her that his flaring nostrils could smell her unique scent.

_Bloody Violets!_

It awoke things in him other than rage and hatred. He could not place it. He could not bear it.

"I abhor you!" Alanna hissed through tightly clenched teeth.

"It seems we finally have something in common, Miss Flint." He replied, his voice cutting with surgical precision.

"Well, it appears that everything is under control here," Salazar chimed in, immensely enjoying the scene below.

"Not now, old man! I suggest you select another canvas to house you for the night," Severus glared over his shoulder sneering contemptuously.

"I thought as much, thus you will find me in the canvas _in your quarters_," he purred, emphasizing the last few words with a wiggle of his bushy eyebrows.

"Lecherous old coot!" Severus muttered to himself in disgust before turning his full attention back to his student.

"Your answer, Miss Flint."

"Are you sure that my inferior intellect will be able to fully explain my actions, Professor?" Her anger temporarily winning the battle over her other emotions.

"You do have a point there," he released the death grip on her shoulders and placed his right hand on her jaw.

Alanna gasped in surprise, trying to back away from the searing contact his fingers caused. She stepped into the wall, her body half covered by his black robes as he stepped forward, tilting her head and looking deeply into her eyes.

"I should have done this a long time ago," he rumbled silkily, piercing her with his onyx stare.

_He is going to kiss you…he is going to kiss you…_The damnable voice in her head tried to convince her that the only thing that would satisfy her were those deliciously close lips on her own. Unfortunately, he did something entirely different.

"_Legilimens!_"

Before she knew what was happening her surroundings swam in front of her eyes and vanished, replaced by racing images that sped through her mind blinding her to her surroundings. A stab of recognition penetrated her mind helping her focus her energies and slow down the steady flow of images from her childhood.

She was five years old, her heart bursting with happiness as her father presented her with her first training broom…She was seven, shaking the hand of a much younger looking Professor Correlius…She was eleven, her hair was being pulled viciously by her cousin Marcus as he back handed her, retaliated by a precise kick to the groin and vicious scratch marks on his cheek…

'Concentrate!' Alanna methodically cleared her mind and let go of her raging emotions. Her father had insisted on teaching her Occlumency over the years persisting that it would be a valuable lesson in guarding ones secrets. Not that she had ever mastered to shield her mind, but then her father was exceptionally skilled at schooling his thoughts and emotions, helping her retain enough to protect herself.

With a hard mental push, she shoved his probing mind from her own, her body shaking with exertion. He moved quickly, repositioning his hand to rest at the base of her throat and pressing her back into the wall. As he repeated the spell, Alanna could feel the scalding heat of his skin through the material of her blouse. Her breath caught in her throat while she stared into his eyes unblinkingly, a light movement of his thumb on her skin left her anything _but_ emotionless. With a spark of energy, her body flooded with goose bumps.

Severus' anger had calmed to a medium boil as he cast he spell on her once more. Her mind had been spread before him like a feast to a starving man; the only thing he had to do now was find particular memories on Farrell's activities. Surprisingly enough, the little girl had actually mustered enough strength to force him from her mind; a feat that even Potter could not accomplish after multiple lessons. He had secured her limp body with his hand, pinning her upper body to the stone wall in order to force her eye contact. Within seconds, he was back in the swirling images that comprised her memories.

Although this time, it was different.

Blurred images passed him left and right, forcing him to concentrate harder on his goal. He could feel her trembling beneath his touch, unconsciously feathering his fingers soothingly over her sternum. Her valiant attempt at shielding her mind had been noted, but his patience was running paper-thin; with a final thrust, he broke into one of the passing images. He could hear her soft humming as the thick fog lifted, making way for candles that illuminated the memory.

He quickly scanned his surroundings and stared suspiciously at the white tiled walls and long mirror across from him. The soft sound of splashing water made him turn abruptly.

There, in an abnormally large Turkish bathtub, was Miss Flint her eyes closed and her head resting on a white, folded towel. Her hair had been swept up in a messy pile, a few long tendrils framing her face and dipping lazily into the hot water. Steam hung heavily on the heated skin of her face, her arms outlining the rim of the bath.

Severus took two steps back, shocked by what he saw. This had nothing to do with what he had been searching for!

Water was running over her shoulders in tantalizing torrents, the water pearling off her slick skin, the droplets finding their way to the valley between her submerged breasts, disappearing just as quickly.

How in the hell did he get into this memory!

He could feel the heat creeping up his high collard robes, making it infinitely harder to breathe. A graceful hand dipped into the water and gathered a copious amount of lilac bubbles, softly blowing them across the water.

With a murderous glare, Severus focused his energy on another memory. Thankfully, the Turkish bath disappeared in a swift blur replaced by swirling darkness.

A sharp tug pulled him into her next memory, his breath leaving him in shallow puffs, his eyes scanning the dimmed room for any type of movement. Severus furrowed his annoyance-streaked brow. What type of a memory was in a pitch-black room?

A sudden burst of fire lit every wick in the room, bathing it in soft, buttery light revealing a multitude of silk pillows and scarves draped throughout. A curious type of oriental music swirled and beckoned him further into the room. As his eyes adjusted to the ambiance, a soft tinkle of coins penetrated the swell of the music, riveting his attention to the very scantily clad woman draped in seductively swaying veils.

He watched her expert gyration of her curvy hips, enticing him with the soft swell of her rolling stomach, while her hands and arms beckoned in a dance of their own, swirling around her veiled face, and delicately caressing her skin above her breasts with the tips of her fingers. Severus quickly grew fascinated with the wisp of Slytherin-green material clinging wantonly to her with every inhalation.

A powerful surge of pure, unadulterated lust shook him to the core as those charcoal-rimmed eyes gazed at him passionately, eliciting two tiny spots of colour on his otherwise emotionless face. With a swift kick of her delicate foot, she pivoted on the ball of her right, presenting her bare back to him only covered by the glorious cascade of auburn curls, whose tips danced in the small of her back emphasizing her perfectly shaped derriere.

As the music grew faster, his heart slammed against his ribcage at the same maddening speed of the drums; his jaw clenched tightly in determination at the not so innocent flair of his carnal urges. A fire he had not felt in years slowly crept through his veins mirroring the effects that medi-chocolate had on shivering second years.

He watched her dance for what seemed ages, her twirling, rolling, serpentine motions perfectly executed, his eyes lingering on the swell of her full breasts. With a disgusted grunt, Severus averted his gaze in self-loathing...

'She is a student for Merlin's sake!'

...and finally noticed the rather indecent display of man perched on the pile of silk pillows. His nostrils flared dangerously as he examined the fair-skinned man at a distance. Clad in black silk pants and dark green sash he looked every bit like a bare-chested pirate, straining to keep from pouncing on her. A seedling of anger planted deep within slowly grew as he watched her dancing for the black haired, dark eyed, finely muscled thief!

Severus moved only a few inches toward the practically rutting couple, watching her breathe seductively over the rapier's perfectly chiseled skin. He narrowed his eyes at him, studying the lines and planes of his face, feeling angry disgust for the girl who had to endure such...filthy advances from a man at least twice...her...age...Severus looked at the man a little more closely. There seemed to be a number of shocking resemblances between the man on the pillows and his own person. His hair was longer and pulled back into a low ponytail, very dark eyes, slightly fuller lips than his own, same nose, and more defined musculature.

His mind raced with the possibility of having accessed one of her more vivid, hormone driven fantasies rather than an actual memory than involved a rather flattering representation of his own person. With a lingering gaze on her creamy figure, he shook himself mentally, feeling absurd and infuriated at his lack of discipline. He needed to release himself from her mind...

The light flutter of the green veil brought him out of his black scowl as he watched the man leaning heavily onto her lithe body, no doubt bruising her lips with his hungry kisses. Thoroughly displeased with his progress, Severus concentrated on the blackness that would expel him from her thoughts.

Her gasp for air stopped him.

Severus opened his eyes once more, and watched her panting for breath; his sordid doppelgänger had vanished. With fluid motion she rose, like a cat stretching its limbs, and homed in on him, swaying her hips to the music, her bodice tinkling as she walked toward him.

A secretive and knowing smile graced her full lips; too knowing. A smile that promised infinite pleasure, or in Severus' case infinite discomfort; the _blue _variety. He stiffened his resolve as she stepped closer gazing at him from beneath her black lashes, her hands ghosting over his clothed person.

"Tell me what you want, Professor," she purred softly before slowly running the tip of her tongue over her full bottom lip.

Severus groaned inwardly, his gaze never leaving hers. He found his body embarrassingly hard, heavy, and beaded with perspiration.

"You will tell me what your father has sent you here for!" He hissed at her menacingly.

Soft laughter rolled over him like warmed honey. "Is that truly what you wanted to ask me, sir?"

"Yes, you impudent chit, now answer the question before I get angry."

He could feel the soft swell of her breasts searing against this chest, as she seductively rubbed herself against him. "I shall answer anything you wish of me, Professor. Anything you ask shall be yours..."

His breath hitched slightly in triumph.

"...but...there is a price I require."

So close!

"And what may that be, Miss Flint?"

Her small fists curled into his robes and slowly pulled him toward her upturned face.

"I require an exchange..."

A finely shaped brow arched at her words.

"...simple really...my secrets...for yours," her lips came so close to his own that he could feel her breath hot and inviting on his own. His body screamed, begged to take her, while his mind harped to desist with this nonsense. He was torn between what was morally the right thing to do and what his male instincts commanded of him.

Chaos versus hunger.

His decision was made instantly.

Hunger won.

His mouth fastened on hers, crushing her lips with his own. His tongue slid sensuously over her lower lip demanding entrance. Her lips parted, and Severus deepened the kiss, caressing her tongue with his. He was devouring all she had to offer, his kiss urgent with promise of more to come, his hands tunneling through the mass of curls, cradling her.

Severus could not think or breathe; being fueled by burning desire coursing through his veins, his pulse roaring in his ears. In the recesses of his mind, he heard a cry of outrage that methodically worked its way into the forefront. To his dismay, he found that his conscience had not been buried deep enough to fully ignore and now reared its ugly head, condemning him for what he was doing.

He released Alanna as if she had physically burned him, his eyes snapping open with shock and disdain for what he had done. They were both standing back in his office, breathing harshly staring at each other. Alanna's half-lidded eyes and delectably swollen lips curled in a small half-smile. Severus cursed under his breath at the severity of what he had done, his self-loathing threatening to consume him fully.

Before he realized what he was doing, he had pulled his wand, pointing it at Alanna's chest, her eyes going wide at the implication. He saw no other way.

"Obliviate!"

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**Authors Note:** I know, please don't flog me. I have good excuses to WHY I have not updated, but I hope this chapter made up for it. I am going to continue of course and will try to update sooner. If you see an update within the next few days, it's just me rewriting the first few chapters. THEY NEED IT BADLY, don't y'all think? THANK YOU to all of my faithful reviewers and all the new ones that have encouraged me to go on writing. This would never be possible without your great input. Special thanks to my beta MysticSong, who is just so diligent about proofing this for you guys...y'all should see it in the rough. LOL Also, Pink, my muse, who keeps me on my toes and loves to give me input on my writing. You are the best. LKLTB, girl you great too! On to the next chapter. 


	19. Thoughts

**Potions: What would a Girl do without it?**

By Slave4severus

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of JKR's work. If I did I would not be sitting at a desk job trying to make a living, but vacationing in Germany with a laptop and some good coffee writing Book 7.

Silvery beams of cool moonlight spilled and faceted through the high windows illuminating the silent bedroom: its occupants sleeping soundly and unmoving. The first, only visible through a thick blanket of russet curls spread out in wildly tangled disarray.

Two gleaming slits appeared in the darkened shadows of the room, a predator homing in on his quarry with deadly precision, stealthily making its way toward the bed. Pupils fully dilated, white, sharp teeth gleaming wetly in the pale light.

A sudden flash of movement rippled through the sinew body, paws connecting with the satin duvet draped across the bed. With a leap it was upon its pray, teeth and claws sinking deep into the…

"Crookshanks!"

The mountain of hair raised itself from the pillow, shoving at the strands with annoyance, revealing the owner of the dimly glowing and vibrating wand; now wedged firmly between Crookshanks' back paws, front claws, and jowls.

"Get off my wand!" Hermione hissed, firmly grasping the base and extracting it from her feisty familiar, extinguishing its alarm.

"There better not be any teeth marks on it, Crooks, or so help me I will turn you into a furry muff for the winter months!" She ran her fingers lightly over the wizened wood in the darkness, feeling nothing amiss.

With a tired sigh, she carefully climbed from beneath the covers, quickly donning her slippers and robe, and then softly padding across the room to where she had dropped her book bag. As quietly as possible, she slung the bag over her shoulder, halting as Alanna stirred restlessly in her bed. Hermione furrowed her brow as she waited for her 'flat' mate to settle down once more.

'What time had she come in anyway?' She contemplated and silently made her way out of the bedroom.

The common room was thankfully deserted, not that Malfoy would have been up at five in the morning on a weekend, and he rightfully needed all the beauty sleep he could get to keep up that polished handsome look that covered up his nasty disposition. Hermione stifled a yawn and sat down on the plush red couch, waving her wand at the dying fire, and then transfiguring a red pillow into a soft blanket of the same color.

She unpacked her bag, pulling forth a rather thick book about written by a nineteenth century Auror entitled _Dark Marks and Curses: An in-depth study_, followed by another, _Magical Bloodlines in England—What a marriageable Witch needs to know._ She bristled at the latter, disgusted with having found this particular volume one of the most coveted light reading materials for the female populous of Slytherin.

Although everything within her rebelled at the thought of reading pureblood propaganda she needed to know more about the girl she was sharing a room with, and thankfully, or perhaps, to her horror, there was an entire chapter dedicated to the Flint family within its pages; closely followed by the Malfoy chapter, but she would be damned if she read about a bunch of ferrets on a Saturday morning!

Hermione rummaged around in her bag for her quill, ink bottle, and a spare roll of parchment she could make her notes on, and set to work.

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Draco stretched luxuriously beneath his Egyptian cotton sheets, silk was just too slippery when he entertained, and slowly opened his eyes to greet the morning sun. Before he could fall back into his second little nap of the morning, a soft clicking noise on his window roused him fully from the recesses of sleep.

With a well placed glare he stared at yet another one of his father's owls, this one having been given a high priority mailing, hence the insistent tapping on his window. Reluctantly, he extracted himself from his sheets and sauntered over to the window.

After relieving the bloody bird of its package he quickly unfolded the letter, while lightly fingering the money pouch his father had attached.

_Draco,_

_Knowing you, you have probably not even encountered Miss Flint since my last correspondence. Unfortunately, I can not take care of this myself and have to leave this in your...capable hands. Do not disappoint me as you so often do, Draco. _

_Enclosed is a money pouch. Spend it on her._

_Lucius Malfoy_

Draco crumbled the letter in his hand viciously, retrieving his wand from the nightstand and incinerating with a quick Incendio. That having given him little satisfaction, he turned toward the owl that had not moved from its perch on the window sill.

"If you know what is good for you, you get the hell out of here before I roast you with my wand!" He grumbled menacingly.

The bird quickly left the junior Malfoy to his bad temper, not flying off fast enough; however, before the window hit it square in the face.

"Bloody Lucius!" Draco ranted, while he sauntered into his private bathroom, forcefully taking off his clothing and depositing them in a neat pile into the laundry basket, which promptly disappeared to an awaiting house elf.

He turned to the mirrored wall above the large sink and sneered at himself in disgust. He was becoming sick and tired of his father running his life!

'_Draco you disgust me! Draco you will marry Pansy! Draco you are a disappointment! Why is a mudblood besting you in everything? Draco you are not a man, but a boy standing in Granger's shadow!'_

Granger! Everywhere he turned she was there, that little freak of nature that took perverse pleasure in thwarting all of his attempts at superiority. After all of these years he had finally been rewarded for his troubles with the Head Boy position. Finally, he could prove to his father that he was not the worthless piece of genetic waste he thought him to be.

'_Head Boy? And who are you sharing your duties with? …Granger! Second best again, Draco. How unsurprising.'_

Draco shook his head to rid himself of his father's voice, echoing its usual round of insults at him.

After a hot shower he dressed in his weekend garb of black tailored slacks and a formfitting, forest green, cashmere sweater. With a calming breath, Draco refocused himself on the task at hand.

What did he know about Alanna Flint?

She was very quiet and not used to being around people; he supposed that was to be expected after being introduced to a bunch of witless, overbearing, unsophisticated oafs better known as Gryffindors. Other than that his source of information was as reliable as the Hogwarts rumor mill. He had heard preposterous accusations about her being a snake charmer, rivaling even Potty's talents.

Draco scoffed softly while collecting his books from his nightstand. Snake charmer indeed! More like Weasel charmer. The blithering idiot has become so besotted with her that he has made more of a fool of himself during meals than usual. Not that he had been looking of course.

Bloody Gryffindors.

No, this battle would be won behind the scenes with Slytherin cunning and Malfoy charm, beginning with an escort to breakfast with the most handsome and eligible, well sort of eligible, bachelor of Hogwarts. With purposeful strides he headed toward the common room, grimly opening the door and fastening his robes properly.

His eyes immediately fell on a sleeping form before the fireplace, making him fall short.

Granger.

With another sneer he approached her silently, taking in her prone form modestly covered by a red blanket clutching tightly to one of her precious books. Her hair spilled over the side of the couch in angry and frizzy disarray, her cheeks covered with a rosy glow, and her breath hitching ever so often.

Draco glanced at the coffee table to see what she had been working on this early in the morning, grabbing the parchment that had fallen onto the floor and scanning it quickly.

The mudblood had taken notes on curse scars. Perhaps a Potty fetish? He read on and found an entire three paragraphs on the Flint family history, along with charts and time lines with a small red star by Alanna's name. His eyes narrowed contemplatively at her surprisingly pure lineage, even more so than Pansy's whose third cousin had been a half-blood. If Alanna would have attended Hogwarts, his father would probably have sought an alliance with the Flint family instead. Why on earth had she been home schooled?

He snorted in disgust when he looked over the two paragraphs she had written about the Potter family tree. It WAS a Potty fetish! He should have known. The parchment fluttered to the floor uncaringly as his eyes fixed on the book grasped in Granger's hands.

Draco smiled wickedly. "My, what have we here," he said softly, reading the partially covered title of a very well known book that rose and fell with each sleep filled breath.

With the tips of his thumb and forefinger, Draco grasped one of Hermione's curls and lightly brushed it against the skin of her cheek, obtaining the exact response he had been hoping for.

Hermione stirred in her sleep brushed the offending strand of hair from her face, during which Draco easily extracted the book from her other hand. Sitting himself on the couch opposite her, he looked at the page she had been perusing before falling asleep. With a sly grin, he retrieved his wand from his robes and magically pulled the pillow from beneath Hermione's head.

She awoke instantly when her head hit the not so soft arm rest.

"Blimey!" She breathed, struggling to sit up and massage her bruised head.

"Very eloquent, Granger," Draco mused not looking up from a rather interesting passage about his eligibility statistics.

Hermione started, her eyes focusing on the Head Boy sitting across from, unconsciously pulling her blanket further up her body. A mortified blush rose into her face when she spotted what exactly he was looking at.

"What do you think you are doing, Malfoy! I need that book for my research."

"Is that why you were reading the Malfoy chapter, for research purposes? Trust me Granger, I would try some make-up, hair tonic, and a blood transfusion for anyone to touch you with a ten-foot pole."

"Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy, I fell asleep reading that chapter, didn't I?" She quipped angrily.

"With me on your mind?"

Hermione scoffed unladylike. "In your dreams!" She rose from her seat and pointedly extended her hand for the book.

He looked up at her with amusement. "Granger, you know better than that. You are not going to get the book until I have satisfied my curiosity."

She sighed indignantly, looking for her wand in order to hex him thrice from Sunday.

"Missing something?"

Hermione turned back to find him waving her own wand at her from across the way. How could she have fallen asleep!

"Don't worry, I will return it after I have a few questions answered."

"I will not be black mailed." She sat back down, folding her arms over her ample bosom.

"Oh, Granger, you don't have to look at it as black mail….think of it as 'inter-house relations," he stated diplomatically. "Why is it that you are researching the Flint family lineage? Marcus never struck me as the mudblood-loving type."

"You are a pig, Malfoy."

"You really must not want your wand back, I suppose…"

"I was merely interested in knowing more about her that is all."

Draco watched her carefully. "Come now, Granger, that can't be all. What have you found out so far?"

Hermione sighed. "Nothing, actually. I have found absolutely nothing about Alanna Flint."

"You mean you could not find more information on her than her actual birth records?"

"No, Malfoy, I have found nothing. According to the latest edition of that book there isn't an Alanna Flint, or any other child sired by Farrell or Melanie Flint."

He narrowed his eyes at her. 'How very curious…'

In his moment of inattentiveness she had retrieved her wand with a quiet 'Accio', her book following shortly after. Draco watched her with a bored expression.

"I know this would be a far stretch for you, Granger, but have you even considered the possibility that your research methods are lacking?"

Call her a mudblood and she does not even flinch, call her inadequate in her studies and she blows her top. In a flash she came to her feet, throwing the blanket off her lap and placing her hands on her hips, eyes blazing with anger.

"There is nothing wrong with my research methods, Malfoy. Don't you think it is a bit odd that there are no records of an Alanna Flint in a book that knows what your slimy self eats for breakfast every day? What you wear when you are not in school uniform, and how often you visit Diagon Alley during summer hols?"

"Get to the point, Granger."

Hermione huffed indignantly and cast a quick look over her shoulder toward her bedroom door. "All I am saying is that after days of going through books, socialite magazines, and even back issues of the Prophet there has not been a whisper about another Flint being born. You pureblooded lot love to make a huge commotion when you procreate, and based on what I have read, a child born to the head of the Flint family would not only be socially high ranked, but also financially set for life and highly eligible."

Hermione took a deep breath. "Now tell me Malfoy, why is it that you are betrothed to Parkinson when there has been a Flint running around unattached for the past seventeen years." It was more of a statement than a question.

Draco hated to admit that the annoying creature had a point. The pureblooded community ran in tight circles, obviously, and he would have at least overheard his father if there would have been any shred of evidence that Farrell Flint had a child. He covered his surprise with a smirk.

"If you are so interested in what _this_…member…of the pureblooded 'community' likes to wet his pallet with in the mornings…"

"You really are a pig, Malfoy! Are you sure your parents weren't siblings?" She groused acidly, turning on her heels not waiting for an answer.

"Not so fast, mudblood!" Draco moved surprisingly fast, catching hold of her wrist and spinning her around. Hermione sucked her breath in sharply as he drew nearer, his thin lips set in an angry snarl.

The soft clicking of Hermione's door stopped him.

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It was too bloody early to even be thinking about food, but he would do his best. Ron shifted uncomfortably in his seat, attempting to loosen the strain in the front of his trousers. Thankfully, he had been the first at the Gryffindor table to arrive at breakfast after a rather long and restless night, featuring the newest member of his family.

"Bloody Hell!"

He closed his eyes with a painful expression being promptly bombarded with the image of Alanna, lying on his bed in Gryffindor tower writhing and moaning his name in ecstasy, as she frigged herself.

His poor toes could not take another cold shower. His 'purple headed wizard' couldn't take another beating either; at least not for the next few hours.

He groaned in frustration. He hoped he would not fall off his broom during Quidditch tryouts later, his hands being far more shaky than usual.

Being further preoccupied, he did not notice the door to the Great Hall opening revealing the object of his sticky fantasies. His appetite for food waning quickly, Ron pulled out the winter catalogue for _Quality Quidditch Supplies_, listlessly thumbing through the first few pages until a familiar voice interrupted him.

"Mornin' Ron."

"Hey, mate," Ron looked up at Seamus, scooting his legs further under the table to hide his erection.

"I would have never thought I'd see the day," Seamus smirked at him, filling his goblet with pumpkin juice.

"Oh? What day would that be?" He thumbed through a few more pages.

"The day you would let a member of your 'family' eat breakfast with a Slytherin."

"What? What are you on about!" Ron looked up and scanned the Slytherin table.

"I don't bloody believe it."

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Harry had finally slept like the proverbial dead and felt much better this morning. The sun was bright, the air crisp, and the wind calm. Perfect Quidditch weather! With a spring to his step he jumped the last few stairs and walked briskly into the Great Hall, smiling at a blushing third year Hufflepuff on his way.

He quickly took his seat next to Seamus and helped himself to a few pieces of toast.

"Good Morning, Seamus."

"Mornin' Harry," Seamus smiled but did not look his way.

"What has you in such a good mood?" He quickly filled his goblet with juice and reached for the strawberry jam.

"Oh, nothin' much," he laughed softly.

"Did you see Ron this morning? He was up before I even made it into the showers."

"The question is, how much are we going to see of Ron for the rest of the day?" Seamus laughed again.

"What do you mean?" Harry looked over at him while licking the sweet, red jam off of his fingers.

"Remember in fifth year when Ginny decided to sit at the Hufflepuff table with that Goldstein bloke?"

Harry grinned. "Yea, she didn't even make it past the Ravenclaw table before Ron got a hold of her."

"Ginny ripped into the poor man in front of the entire school and then sat with Goldstein anyway. Afterwards, she had to promise him to never sit at the Slytherin table."

Harry laughed at the memory. "And what does that have to do with where he is?"

Seamus never looked at Harry, his eyes focused ahead of him. "It seems that his _other_ sister has decided to eat breakfast with Malfoy."

Harry's head whipped around. "For fucks sake!" He mumbled under his breath as he saw exactly where Ron was.

To say that Ron was mad would have been an understatement, his skin tone having reached an alarming shade of puce. He was standing rather closely to Malfoy who had just gotten up from his seat, facing the red head with a self-satisfied look that perused Ron's entire person. Harry could not hear what exactly Malfoy said to him, but his reaction spoke for itself.

"I will bloody kill you for that one, Malfoy!" Ron shouted, lunging toward the blond with alarming speed.

Harry bypassed a few Ravenclaws to get to the Slytherin table in time before Ron could kill the Head Boy, but the gaping idiots were blocking his way. From his vantage point he could only watch Alanna rise from her seat and fiercely talking to the blond and red head on the other side of the table.

Astonishingly enough, each looked chastised in their own right, Ron releasing Malfoy's robes where he had been clutching them and Malfoy regaining his composure with a smirk and tug of his sweater.

When Harry, and Professor Flitwick who had come rather late to intercept the scuffle, finally reached his best friend, Alanna had placed her napkin on her unfinished plate of fruit and toast, quietly excusing herself from their company.

With her head held high she passed Harry on her way toward the doors, gracing him with a small nod and half smile. He looked after her and watched her disappear through the doors, then turning to look at Ron.

It was Malfoy who broke the silence with his usual snort of derision.

"And THAT Weasley, is why a woman of her caliber would never give you a second glance."

As Harry attached himself around Ron's swinging arms, hauling him forcefully from Malfoy, he gritted his teeth and thought about how long this year was really going to be.

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Author's Note: Please, do not flame me because it has been ages. Life happened.

What I am more interested though is what you guys think will happen in the future? What is the reason for Alanna's scar? When will she remember? Will Lucius get his slimy hands on her again?...Send me your thoughts please! Without reviews I am afraid Alanna might die in mid flight!

Thank you to my Beta Mysticsong and Pink, my muse, without whom there would not be another chapter.

Just about finished with the next chapter….cross my heart!


	20. Squidditch

**Potions: What would a Girl do without it?**

By Slave4severus

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of JKR's work. If I would, Severus would only be performing for me and not _en masse_.

His seething anger was veiled beneath a thin layer of wintry indifference. His hard, rapid footfalls were reverberating off the dungeon walls, echoing warnings of his volatile disposition, inadvertently parting the hushed groups of Slytherins on their way to the Great Hall like a sinister incarnation of Moses parting the proverbial Red Sea.

'That infuriating child!'

_She did not feel like a child, Severus._

His scowl deepened as he ascended the stairs, his conscience finally having emerged from the shadowy depths he had forcibly pushed it into last night. The worst part of last nights encounter had been the crushing wave of self-loathing and disgust that had threatened to drown him after he had obliviated her.

He had not slept a wink all night.

_Admit it Severus, you wanted to kiss the moisture from those perfect lips even after she gazed up at you with that vacant expression._

'She is nothing more than a child!'

His libido laughed mockingly as it conjured the images he had procured from her mind in rapid succession. He growled lowly and sneered more at himself than the terrified second year he physically forced out of his way, not breaking his stride.

He was being absolutely ridiculous!

He was a former Death Eater turned spy; had seen and done everything imaginable that could be considered terrifying and vile. He had put children out of their misery after debauched revels, physically sickened by the men who delighted in taking innocent and unwilling flesh.

_She was not unwilling._

"Yes, you tell yourself that, old man, perhaps it will lessen the stench of corruption."

"Sir?"

Severus' eyes focused on the seventh year leaning against the wall at the top of the stairs, cursing for having said that bit out loud.

"If I would have addressed you, Mr. Zabini, you would have been aware of it."

"Of course, sir."

Severus assessed him with a calculating glance, stopping his gait abruptly while his robes swirled ominously around his person. Blaise Zabini was unfortunately one of the many Slytherins who were being primed to follow their father's footsteps. He could see the changes every time he let his charges go home for the holidays; they turned more withdrawn and thoughtful every year, until after graduation, when they would be initiated into the Dark Lord's ranks with a fanfare of rape and blood.

For now, however, he was the unwavering constant in their life; the same every day without fail.

"Do not make it a habit to loiter, Mr. Zabini," Severus smirked knowingly. "Someone could mistake you for a Gryffindor."

Blaise answered with a smirk of his own. "Of course, sir." He turned and walked toward the Great Hall with a distinct swagger of confidence.

That was until he ran into _her_.

Severus watched from the shadows as Zabini made contact with a rather flustered looking Miss Flint, chest first. He could hear the soft gasp of distress as she clutched at her bruised bosom and staggered backwards a few paces, Zabini reacted on instinct Severus told himself, which did not stop his hands from curling into battering rams at the sight.

Zabini's response time was fast, he would give him that. Within a blink of an eye, his hands snaked out to steady her, inadvertently bringing her closer to his person. With his trademark baritone, he mumbled something followed by a smile that could only be described as 'winning'.

Severus scoffed softly before he could stop himself.

The girl backed up from his personal space and looked apologetic, saying something that Severus was absolutely _not_ straining to hear. That infuriating lout actually had the gall to bow slightly to her and say something charming no doubt.

At least it must have been, based on her reaction. His blood ran cold, while he stared at the enchanting creature laughing at whatever inane nonsense Zabini had conjured.

Severus was furious with himself. Why was he bloody reacting this way! He was a man always in control of every aspect of his life; every one of them. Until he had seen the images in her mind…

His eyes narrowed instantly as he contemplated the most outrageous explanation he could come up with. Perhaps he had been set up by someone who had altered the girl's mind? What were the odds of an innocent girl having fantasies about a man twice her age? Especially a man such as himself. Although it was difficult to cast enough memory charms to insert certain permanent ideas or thoughts, it was not unheard of.

Lestrange had always been rather skilled at such trickery. Perhaps the Serpentine Scum had finally gotten wind of his double agent role and had sent the perfect trap, wrapped in a pleasing exterior and not unfortunate in her studies.

Then again, he _had_ found her in his personal laboratory. Perhaps the Dark Lord wanted to know more about the deadly potions he had been developing, and of course, their intricate antidotes. She could have slipped him something while in his domain; he would have to ask Salazar if there had been something amiss when he came upon her.

Severus hated to admit it, but she could have attempted to poison him again with another type of potion, which would explain these irrational carnal urges he had been experiencing since last night.

His scowl intensified as he watched the girl leave the Entrance Hall with her head held high, confidence and poise clinging to every one of her steps.

_Hmm, that supple, young body…_

He did _not_ just think of the witch as supple! That voice needed to be exorcised.

With his robes wrapped protectively about his body he strode toward the Great Hall, not glancing at the double doors for which she had been headed. He needed more answers, and Albus would have to supply him, or else the old man would find himself sucking on the entire tin of those blasted lemon drops.

Thankfully, the bloody-boy-with-nine-lives and his sidekick were the first stress relievers of the day, and how could he resist taking Gryffindor points this early in the morning.

"Potter, Weasley!"

Professor Flitwick squeaked from his toppled position amongst the benches. All three parties stopped their struggle; if one could call Draco side-stepping Weasley's meaty grasp any effort at all, and whipped their heads toward him.

"Twenty points each for brawling, another twenty for attacking the Head Boy, and detention Monday night at seven."

He did not look at them or slow his pace. He had already dismissed them from his thoughts.

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The cold air and bright sun hardly sweetened her temper. With rushing strides she began walking along side the rivers shore, wrapping her forest green robes tighter around her shivering body. Her hair whipped around her face, stinging her watering eyes and obstructing her view of the majestic mountain side and dark rippling waters of the lake.

Even though the day was less than warm, Alanna sat down on the cold ground and leaned back in exhaustion. She had not slept well yet again. A faceless man with long blond hair haunted last night's dreams.

He was familiar…just beyond her grasp of comprehension.

How utterly _frustrating_! Where was a piano when you truly needed one?

With a sigh, she closed her eyes and thought about last nights activities. She recalled her detention with Mr. Filch and then arriving at the Potions classroom, however, the walk down into the dungeons was hazy at best. After a rather nasty encounter with the Potions Master, she had brewed Mrs. Norris' potion without one bit of conversation.

He had warded the supply cupboard with a flick of his wand and tersely spoken words, glaring at her darkly.

She had lifted her chin and retrieved her own supplies, beginning the two-hour brewing process, while he marked his papers sending covert glances her way ever so often.

She ignored him as best as possible. When her body was not on _fire_!

Nothing a softly whispered cooling charm could not take care of but, how could she just be so horribly lame? Not only with the Professor, but with all the other boys in the castle as well?

Sweaty palms, rapid breathing, racing heart beat, hyper sensitive sense of smell….she was acting like ruddy beast in heat that had been deprived of male contact for many years!

If you substituted the word 'beast' for 'woman', she was actually describing herself.

With a disgusted scoff, Alanna closed her eyes and fought against the flaming heat of her cheeks. This morning she had been listening at the door of her shared chambers, Hermione insisting on not having read anything about her in a pure-blooded text.

At first she had been rather insulted for being 'researched' in such a manner, but then thinking it strange herself that not even her birth certificate had been publicized.

Her parents probably forgot to release it. Simple as that. End of story.

More than enough people knew about her existence. Her uncle and cousin for instance, and her father's business associates always brought her gifts addressed to the 'daughter of the family.' She had even received a rather beautiful trinket for her fourteenth birthday: an emerald teardrop pendant that shimmered beautifully.

Her father had opened the black velvet box and regarded it darkly, muttering a few magic-detection spells, before relinquishing the gift to her. He had placed the platinum necklace around her neck and kissed her forehead, then turning and tossing the card that came with it.

Of course, she had retrieved the card and read it for herself. 'To the loveliest lady to ever grace this hall, may this humble offering accentuate your beauty.'

Someone had thought of her as a 'lovely' lady; not just a knobbly-kneed girl without any social graces that had been forbidden to accompany her parents to social events. She had never parted with the gift, and wore it to this day beneath the many layers of fabric that constituted her robes.

Deep in thought, she had opened the door and faced the two people on the other side. Head girl and boy….the same boy who had been rather rude to her during Transfiguration class. Malfoy, did he say? Yet another name she did not recognize.

However, a sensuous smile, graceful bow, and a breakfast invitation later, she had walked beside him like a docile cow to the breakfast table. Jaded by that intriguing smell of freshly showered, strong, vivacious male. Why did every other female seem immune?

While they sat together at the breakfast table, she could not shake a rather strange feeling of déjà vu…

She would have remembered meeting him, and did not feel ashamed to ask him about it. Prior to receiving an answer, Ron had come up to them, highly affronted, and demanded to know what Draco was 'playing at'. His overbearing behaviour shocked Alanna.

"What are you playing at, Malfoy!"

"Your manners, Weasley, are rather atrocious, so I would not know to what you are referring to."

Ron's face turned a darker shade of red.

"You know damn well what I mean, Ferret! Do not ever come around her again, or you will get a repeat performance of the shiner Hermione gave you during third year."

"You have mudbloods fighting your battles now, Weasel?"

Ron advanced on Draco, eyes flashing, muscles bulging, and knuckles cracking in anticipation. He stopped at Alanna's voice.

"Bravo gentleman. I applaud your obvious attempts at being civil with each other in public." Her sarcastic comment was emphasized with a slight arch of a brow, her eyes settling on Ron. "Although I appreciate your gesture of…is it protectiveness?"

He nodded grimly.

"…I assure you that I am more than capable of having enough judge of character to select my acquaintances; let alone defend myself when the situation calls for it. If I am in need of rescuing, I will let you know, Ron."

Draco's smirk faded when she gazed at him.

"I know you place great stock on lineage and 'good breeding', Draco. Therefore, I find it quite surprising that your manners are lacking basic refinement in your regard toward others. Correct me if I am wrong, but is the term 'mudblood' not a rather primitive way of addressing a fellow witch or wizard?"

He nodded minutely.

"I thought as much. I am rather shocked to find that you would lower yourself into calling someone, who is supposedly your equal, such a derogatory name."

Alanna stood, placing her napkin on her plate.

"If you would excuse me gentleman, I would rather not be privy to your personal vendetta. Draco, thank you for your company; Ron, I will see you later in the Common Room, I'm sure."

With that, she had left their presence, acknowledging a rather stunned looking Harry on the way out…

…and _smashingly_ running into yet another bloke, whose only offence, was to have entered the double doors when she attempted her grand exit.

Perhaps they gave awards to the most physically and hormonally challenged of the year? Then again, maybe not.

Blaise Zabini. Also known as tall, dark, and handsomely Slytherin, with a rather hard frame...

"Quidditch practice is paying off I suppose," Blaise grinned at the blushing new girl. "If you want to try something a little harder next time, you can always jump on my broom and I will take you for a ride."

Alanna had laughed at the outlandish response.

If she tried something a bit harder, she would probably crack her other three ribs she had not injured over the past week.

However, the thought of riding a broom had merit.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of laughter carried on a gale of wind. The sun had risen higher without her notice, her thoughts far too occupied. Squinting against the bright light she watched numerous students walking toward what seemed to be a rather large arena of sort. Some had their brooms slung over their shoulders, while others chatted excitedly, throwing searching glances over their shoulders.

Alanna rose from her sitting position and cleansed herself of dust and leaves as she walked toward them, the wheels in her head turning swiftly.

All she needed…was a broom.

That was all.

She came here by broom, and she would fly home on one.

Now if she could only remember from which direction she had come from…

"WE'RE GONNA CRUSH YOU THIS YEAR, GRYFFINDOR!"

A younger boy dressed in yellow and black robes yelled toward her red and gold clad housemates. The other house teams laughed loudly at the blushing youth and continued on their trek to the arena responding with jibes like "That will be the day!" and "Gryffindor himself was still around the last time YOU won!"

"Alanna!"

She looked up sharply at the sound of her name, smiling at Harry's waving form, returning the gesture. He beckoned her toward him and she readily complied, her eyes falling on his broom.

"You want to come and watch the Quidditch tryouts?" He smiled down at her.

"Quidditch tryouts….sure, why not."

Anything to get her closer to that broom! Sweet Merlin, what kind of a broom was it?

Harry noticed her gaze on his Firebolt and handed her his clipboard with the Quidditch line-up.

"This is a Firebolt," he pulled the handle level to the ground and dropped the broom, which levelled parallel to the ground with a soft hum and 'whoosh' sound. "It is the newest in broom technology, used by international Quidditch players across the globe," Harry ran his hand lovingly over the ebony wood. "It can accelerate from zero to one-hundred and fifty mph in only ten seconds and has a built in shielding against wind and inertial forces."

Harry swung himself on the stationary broom and hovered only inches above the stick of the broom. She looked up at him in awe.

"It has a built in cushioning charm," he said with a grin, "not to mention the unbreakable charm that comes in very handy when you connect with something solid, like a tree….or a wall."

He peered at her over his glasses and ran his hand through his unruly hair.

"Yes, well…" She blushed and tried to switch the topic. "So, where are you off to?"

Harry looked at her strangely, repeating himself. "Quidditch tryouts. We have them every year, you should come."

He gracefully dismounted the broom and swung it over his left shoulder.

"Have you ever played?" They both started walking toward the arena.

"Actually, I have not. I know it is a sport of course, and that most people find it entertaining, but I have never been able to play or actually observe a match."

Harry grinned and picked up his pace. "Well then you should be in for a treat! We are recruiting a new chaser and perhaps a beater or two depending on the crop of hopefuls."

On the way to the Quidditch pitch, as the arena was called, Harry gave her a quick rundown of how the game actually worked. Alanna only listened half heartedly, her gaze returning incessantly to his magnificent broom that could bring her home in no time.

Now, if only he would let her borrow it for a ride around the pitch…

"Oy! HARRY! We're up first, Mate!" Ron schooled his broom ten feet above them and smiled sheepishly at Alanna before looking back at his Captain.

Harry mounted his broom and took the clipboard from her proffered hand.

"You want to try out, Alanna? I hear that you are a good flier," he expertly manoeuvred his broom to hover right above her.

Merlin's feet she needed that broom!

"Sure, Harry, but I don't have a broom to fly on, if you cou—"

"There are a few Cleansweeps in the shed behind the pitch - just grab one and meet us here," he jotted her name down on his clipboard, and then bolted upward toward the team.

'Damnation!' Of course, he would not offer her his own.

It took her a few minutes to locate the broom shed, opening the door she breathed in the musty air, her eyes critically glancing over the rickety brooms on display.

Slim pickings at best.

Grabbing the best of the lot, she hastened to return, trying to ignore the rude comments coming from the spectators.

"You must be desperate this year Potter! This one can't even dodge a building!" She steeled herself against the laughter, her face flaming with embarrassment.

Harry ignored the cheap seats and looked over his roster. "Weasley keeper, Weasley, Robins, and Flint chasers. Kirke and Sloper make sure you make the bludgers count we are trying for a new chaser."

Everyone flew into position as Alanna mounted her 'stick', rising shakily to where Ginny was hovering, her flaming hair billowing in the wind.

"I didn't know you liked Quidditch," the red head smiled approvingly.

"I am surprised myself, actually," she said in a bit of a panic, while the broom decided to lurch forward in protest.

"Damn broom!" Alanna protested.

"You should have seen the first broom I started Quidditch with. It was a Dustmaster 50, the only broom that was better at sweeping than flying."

Alanna did not take much comfort in that statement.

"Just remember, pass the ball to one of us or try to get it through those hoops at the end there."

Pass…hoops….ok. This could not be too hard.

"Oh and watch for these two meatheads!" Alanna looked up at the two boys with very mean looking clubs. "They are going to try to knock you off your broom."

What!

Just then a jet-black ball whizzed by her right shoulder, scaring her half off her broom. With a mighty swing of his club, Kirke hit the ball with a dull 'thwack' sending it toward the laughing Slytherin team, who scrambled to take cover.

He grinned toward the competition then looked at her with a smirk. "You may want to get going, Potter wants us to show you a rough time."

She did not need to be told twice. Her thighs firmly gripped the broom and she shot past Kirke and Sloper, the latter having just made contact with the second black ball aiming for her back.

Quickly dipping downward and to the side, she watched it zoom past her and toward one of the other chasers. Ginny turned up to her right and threw a rather large ball in her direction. She had no choice but to let go of the handle and catch it.

Alanna nearly stopped her broom and stared down at the odd ball.

"Alanna!"

She looked up just in time to see both black balls zooming toward her with ungodly speed. She swooped into a nose-dive toward the ground, the Cleansweep vibrating harshly beneath her left hand, the ball clutched tightly under her right arm. The ground was fast approaching as she tugged on the handle sharply.

Unfortunately, nothing seemed to happen. The bloody broom would not budge, spiralling out of control while the green grass of the pitch came closer and closer.

Alanna let go of the ball she was holding in order to pull sharper on the handle, its vibrations shaking her entire upper body. Those blasted balls were still hot on her tail, zooming around trying to unseat her, waiting to split her head like an overly ripe melon, or at the very least give her a nasty concussion.

The pressure in her jaw was close to breaking, her teeth grinding down at the thought of dying by sudden impact.

Her last breath was knocked out of her quite suddenly as she felt herself being literally plucked from her broom, a very strong arm snaking around her upper abdomen clutching her tightly. Alanna's relief was short lived, her body sagging out of her rescuers arm, her hands desperately clutching for hold.

"Don't wiggle so much, or I am going to drop you!"

She felt the broom he was on slowing somewhere close to the big hoops at the end of the pitch. Without thinking, Alanna looked downward and instantly became dizzy. Sweet Merlin's slippers, they were at least forty feet in the air….

"DON'T YOU LET HER FALL, MALFOY!"

She could hear Ron's roaring voice from a distance, her body slipping inch by inch out of the grasp of her rescuer.

"Alanna, I need to let you go."

What!

She could hear the strain in his voice and looked up to meet his face. His grasp slipped again and she hung, dangling now, her right hand digging into the flesh of his forearm.

"I promise I will catch you," he hissed.

A second later and she was freefalling, the air roaring around her body, but before she could let out a scream of distressed she was back in his arms; clinging to him without dignity.

"It's alright now, your fine. I got you," he kept repeating those words into her ear, trying to soothe her.

"WHAT ARE YOU PLAYING AT, MALFOY!" Ron roared at him, his broom stopping mere feet from his.

Alanna was too stunned to think much of anything, other than the repeated echo inside of her head that begged her to go home. Home. Home.

"I SAW YOU DROP HER, YOU BLOODY PEACOCKD FERRET!"

Harry had reached the scene as well and took note of Alanna clutching Malfoy as if he were going to let her go again. His green gaze darkened and at the broom that saved his housemate.

Malfoy had a Firebolt.

Ron's eyes were about to bulge out of his red face. All he could think about was how Malfoy had let her go, and now the way she was clutching to him. Her legs had wrapped themselves intimately around the git's thighs, hands clutching at his back and her head resting on his sternum.

He could hear her panting for Merlin's sake!

Malfoy smirked with a knowing look. This was killing the Weasel! He adjusted his hold on Alanna and soothingly caressed her back.

"Give her to me!" Ron demanded firmly, extending his own hands toward her.

"Are you out of your mind, Ron?" Ginny was appalled.

The rest of the team had finally made it over to the scene, all worried for Alanna's safety.

"Take her down, Malfoy," Harry demanded, narrowing his eyes at the blonde.

Draco narrowed his in return at Harry and suggestively placed both of his hands on Alanna's waist. "I will bring her back to the castle, besides, my new broom needs to be broken in…"

He smirked suggestively at both Ron and Harry.

"YOU TOUCH HER AND I WILL KILL YOU, MALFOY!"

"Ronald calm down! He is only taking her up to the castle!" Ginny pleaded with him clutching her brother's shoulder and giving Alanna worried glances.

"Alanna? Do you want one of us to go with you?" Harry's voice was soothing.

Home. Home. All she could think about was leaving. Her head lifted and she looked at him through a curtain of dark hair. "No, Harry. I will be fine."

He nodded curtly and looked back at Malfoy frostily. He brought his own Firebolt closer to Malfoy's and stared at him unblinkingly, "Don't do anything to her that you would regret."

With that said, he flew off to the middle of the pitch, the rest of the team following reluctantly. Draco smirked again. This was going easier than he had anticipated.

He slowly moved his broom toward the castle gliding smoothly toward the lake, a rather romantic spot early in the evening while the sun was setting. Although it was around lunchtime now, she would certainly appreciate the effort. Girls were shallow like that.

"You can look up now," he said softly, and she did.

Alanna quickly noticed how intimately she was holding on to him and tried to disentangle herself.

"Although you are sitting on a Firebolt, you should not try to untangle yourself until we have reached the ground."

She narrowed her eyes at that. Firstly, because she was sitting on a broom just like Harry's, and secondly, because she knew he was enjoying her holding on to him just a little too much.

Moreover, what kept poking her inner thigh? 'It must be his wand,' she thought dismissively.

"Draco?"

"Hmm?"

"I just wanted to say thank you…"

"You are quite welcome. I wasn't going to let you die."

Alanna smiled and scooted back on the handle of the broom, looking into his quicksilver eyes. He really was handsome.

"I not only wanted to thank you for my life, but…" her hands softly rested on his robe-clad pectoral muscles.

Draco's breath caught in his throat. How he loved it when they were easily manipulated…

"…for your broom."

"For my…what?" He was confused. What did his broom have anything to do with this?

"I hope you can forgive me," Alanna whispered before she locked her ankles under his broom and gave his chest a mighty shove.

The last thing she saw before she turned on his Firebolt and sped toward the Forbidden Forest was the shocked expression of one Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Captain, Seeker, and Sex God of Hogwarts, hurtling toward the black depths of a very icy lake.

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Author's Note: Ok, I am about to go on a long weekend, where I will outline the next chapter. I HOPE it won't take too long. Action packed of course. We all LOVE Alanna on a broom. Thanks again to my faithful readers: Mystic (who really has no choice!), Mark Darcy, ThouandI, HazelVervain.

To my newest obsession Odyssia: I am very humbled by your review, thank you!

To all of you who keep track of my story PLEASE Review. I have hit 100 thousand words and naturally want my ego stroked.

Pink, you sod, you were supposed to review! Thanks for the input, mate.

What do you think is going to happen to Alanna? Will she make it home in one piece?


	21. Forbidden Foreplay

**Potions: What would a Girl do without it?**

By Slave4severus

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of JKR's work….does anyone ever read these disclaimers?

**Disclaimer B**: My Beta, Mysticsong, would like to advise you NOT to eat or drink while reading this chapter. I have no idea why she would say that.

With breakneck speed, Alanna passed through the dark, shaded trees, venturing further into the green gloom of the thickly lined forest. The broom was truly amazing! She felt as if she were floating on air, her only grip on reality the firm grasp she had around its handle. Thankfully, it turned with the lightest of touches so she could fully concentrate on the task at hand.

Beech tree. Right.

Oak. Left.

Pine. Right.

Sycamore. Left.

The further she travelled into the heart of the forest, she was forced to reduce her speed and height greatly; winding her way through thickly knotted brambles and knotgrass, catching her robes, hair, and slicing through exposed skin.

Here, the trees grew so closely that it was turning as dark as twilight and winding around them became cumbersome and dangerous. Alanna's robed arms and legs were soon covered in small cuts and scratches that stung fiercely. She did not dare rise above the trees, afraid that the Headmaster would have sent out a search party of professors by now to get her to come back.

No. She would be safer in here for now.

The gloom in the forest was so deep that she could hardly see anything in front of her other than the next two trees in her vicinity. Squinting slightly she flew on, her speed and height considerably lessened by the untamed overgrowth.

The minutes passed into what felt like hours, a dull throb developing behind her eyes from intense concentration.

_I wonder if I am going in the right direction._

The small lapse in focus was all it took; the Firebolt swerving too far to her right. Alanna let out a yelp of pain as her hair tangled in a thick patch of brambles, unseating her ungracefully. She fell at least two meters toward the ground, connecting with the forest floor harshly, and knocking the wind out of her.

She lay gasping for breath, her eyes closed while her body took inventory of her injuries. In fact, the only thing that really hurt was her scalp. Alanna rubbed where her hair had caught, cursing the shrubbery for loosing more than a few strands of hair. Her body ached from the impact but seemed otherwise unharmed, lifting herself off of the ground and into a standing position with effort, leaning heavily on Draco's broom.

The spinning sensation soon passed and she straightened. Although she needed rest desperately, Alanna was afraid to linger so close to the castle, in fear of being caught. Desperation drove her onward on foot, too disoriented and bruised to mount the broom for now.

The forest became darker by the minute and deathly quiet, the animals having drawn back, ceasing all activity; not even the birds were singing. Alanna moved on with trepidation, searching for a clearing in order to remount the broom, her footsteps seemed muffled in the eerie silence.

Her back ached and the temperature was dropping quite drastically the farther she walked. The mind numbing silence of the forest was quite disconcerting as she walked on, small puffs of chilled breath lingering like frosty mist. In the distance she could make out a lighter shade of grey and walked toward it, hoping for a break in the foliage.

Mercifully, it was. Alanna slowly walked into the dimly lit clearing looking toward the darkening sky with relief, and without a second thought moved toward the centre, her eyes still focused on the early evening sky above her.

No sound that forewarned what happened next.

An arrow flew through the air with an angry hiss, lodging itself only centimetres from her right foot. Alanna yelped in fright and stepped backward, three more arrows following her path, lodging with deadly precision in a tree behind her, passing closely to her body without actually striking her.

Her left hand gripped the broom tightly, her right disappearing between the folds of her cloak, searching frantically for her wand. There was movement right outside her field of vision; small movements that made her think she had imagined them, if it not for the rustling foliage.

Alanna could feel the earth shaking beneath her feet. Something was coming.

'I can fight this…I can fight this…,' she thought anxiously.

She could hear the soft thunder of hooves coming closer to the clearing, her wand at the ready. In her minds eye she could see the four riders of the apocalypse coming toward her…

'Oh, who am I kidding!' she thought frantically, every intention of flying out of the clearing and into the night.

The sharp, cold tip of an arrow pressed against her neck stopped her, her body freezing instantly in shock.

'Bloody Hell.'

"Who are you?" A dark, raspy voice muttered.

As if she has not heard that question before. Alanna swallowed painfully as she saw more than twenty centaurs emerge from the darkness, surrounding her completely. Her wand hand lowered to her side, forgotten.

The tip of the arrow was pressed further into her soft flesh.

"I demand to know who you are, human?" The rough voice asked her from behind.

"What are you doing in our forest?" A black bodied centaur asked unemotionally, pawing the ground in agitation, the surrounding centaurs shifting restlessly thrumming their bows in anticipation. Alanna looked at her broom fearfully, if only she could…

"Do you really think we wouldn't shoot you out of the sky?" The sharp tip lanced through the first layers of skin, bathing it in a few drops of blood. Alanna mewled softly, her eyes huge with fear.

The arrow was removed only to be replaced by a strongly fisted hand tugging sharply at her hair. The words flooded over her lips without thought.

"Alanna Flint. My name….Alanna Flint."

The centaur looked down at her upturned face, his hand wrapping around her thick tresses and pulling it further.

"Why are you trespassing into our forest, Alanna Flint?" his quiet voice without emotion.

"I…I….was on my way through…" his hold on her was painful enough to make her eyes water.

"On your way through?" Magorian furrowed his bushy brows and regarded her darkly, tilting her head to the side.

"This is preposterous! Magorian, have you forgotten our vow to kill whoever dares to infiltrate our forest?" Bane stepped forward shaking his head in disgust. "I say we kill the witch!"

The other centaurs voiced and pawed the ground in approval waiting for their leader to step away and justice to be served. Magorian looked up with a grim expression, releasing his hold on her hair and pushing her forward; her knees connected with the ground sharply.

Alanna looked up through her tangled hair at the rearing hooves and pointed arrows, her hands tightening around her wand and broom. She did not want to die this way. On her knees like an animal without any dignity.

"This human is cursed," Magorian informed his brothers stonily.

She truly was. Alanna slowly rose with trembling legs staring at her angered opponents. She had been cursed when she stole this broom. She was cursed upon arrival at that damnable school, and a cursed memory. This was just another day in the hell that had become her life. She fought the humourless laughter that tried to bubble up from the depths of her waning sanity.

"All the more reason to kill her where she stands," Bane growled, stepping closer and cocking his arrow tightly.

"We are not the ones to pass judgement on her, Bane," Magorian stepped forward, glaring imperiously. It was an uncomfortable feeling being sandwiched between two centaurs.

"I care not about passing judgement, we have already judged and found humans to be sorely lacking," Bane hissed through his clenched teeth.

'Kill me. Kill me not,' the singsong-like voice said in her head. Alanna wished they would make up their minds; the voice agreed. The offending hand found its way back around the expanse of her hair, pulling so harshly she could feel her neck pop uncomfortably. 'Snapping your neck will be faster,' the voice insisted urgently, while her vocal chords made her distress known.

"She is marked," Magorian pointed at the sliver of a scar on her neck ignoring the human's distress. Bane came closer and placed his thumb on the humans chin, tilting her head for a better look.

"This can not be a true scar," he groused disbelievingly. "It would have been in the stars…"

"The stars do not always make their intentions known to us. We are not here to judge one who has already been marked."

"Pluto has been shadowed this week...," the ethereal voice of a red headed centaur interrupted their discussion.

"What of it Ronan?" Bane spat uncharitably.

"That curse was born from obsessive desire for power and channelled by destruction," Ronan joined the other two in the middle of the clearing, looking down on the shaking human. "She has been reborn into what we see before us today."

"This human can not be important in the grand scheme of things," Bane sneered ominously. "The affairs of humans do not concern us!"

"Her life will end harshly, Bane, just not by our hand," Ronan answered cryptically. Alanna closed her eyes, tears spilling down her dirt stained cheeks. Centaurs were not the type to lie about what was apparently mapped out in the stars. Although she was shocked and frightened by the news, it also helped strengthen her resolve. What did she have to loose? Her life already seemed forfeit.

"Release me," her hoarse voice barely suppressing the rage that quickly replaced her fear, whilst the three centaurs argued heatedly, ignoring her request. The rest of the lot were conversing rather loudly about how they should kill her, or if the alignment of the planets were correctly foretelling the future. Alanna felt another hard tug on her hair, gritting her teeth painfully and swaying precariously toward the centaur behind her, unconsciously reaffirming her grip on the broom and her wand.

"RELEASE ME NOW!" She shouted furiously, her voice beginning to crack.

"Watch your tongue, human!" Bane stepped even closer and lowered his face a breath away from hers. "I do not care who or what you are in your world. Here, you are nothing more than an intruder who dares to go against us." He regarded her with an edge of disdain and bitter malice. "If I, or any of my brothers, catch you here once more we will not hesitate to suspend you between two oaks and use you as target practice."

Alanna did not take her eyes from his while he spoke, her breathing laboured by her ire.

"And that goes for any of your other friends that may think it a funny sport to be 'on their way through' here," Bane rose and turned without another glance, cantering toward the edge of the clearing.

She was released with another small tug, her body stumbling forward a few paces, daring not to look up at the protesting centaurs, who thankfully were galloping from her as quickly as they had appeared on the clearing.

"Alanna Flint."

She looked up at the red head they called Ronan through half lidded eyes with suspicion.

"Do not be rash. Your fate is not yet set in stone," he regarded calmly, a sharp contrast to the flurry of activity around them. "Beware of past blood rising against you," with those words he turned and joined the remaining centaurs, disappearing into the forest. The unnatural silence resumed once more and still Alanna stood in the glade regaining a semblance of control over her breathing, her body beginning to tremble as the adrenaline coursing through her veins began to subside. Her knees buckled and her hands loosened their grip on her wand and Firebolt, both falling to the ground beside her.

She had actually survived. Her head hurt like hell and her neck was sore, but otherwise her body was only littered with minor scrapes and bruises. Her throat ached insistently, her windpipe raw from the frigid chill of the night air. This trip was turning out to be more of a hassle than previously anticipated. A rustle from the gnarly underbrush roused Alanna from her thoughts, her eyes scanning the tree line with an alarming sense of trepidation, seeing everything through a filter of possible danger. A cold breeze blew some errant leaves past her line of sight, making her jump in fright; a big pair of red eyes stared back at her through the darkness, her rational mind disengaging and her flight response taking hold.

Alanna frantically grabbed her wand and Firebolt, standing in a fluid motion and setting out at a run toward the opposite end of the clearing. With a powerful underhanded throw, she tossed the broom forward, its hovering charm suspending it in mid motion a few meters ahead of her. A quick look over her right shoulder confirmed the red eyed creature's rapid approach, and with her last spurt of energy she clenched her wand between her teeth and grabbed the handle with both hands; swinging herself onto the broom mid sprint.

The broom responded instantly to the pressure of her thighs, shooting straight up into the twilit sky, the wind biting her exposed skin angrily. She continued her ascent until the forest was a good distance beneath her, racing the lingering birds in the rapidly darkening sky. Shortly after her accelerated heart slowed to a steady beat, she stopped to find her bearings and replace her wand within the folds of her robes. A scan of the perimeter revealed the castle a fair distance behind her, the brightly lit windows of the Great Hall like beacons in the fading daylight. Without a second thought, Alanna turned around on her broom and lowered it into a horizontal flight just above the majestic treetops.

Although she wanted to fly faster than the wind, Alanna realized she would not be able to keep that degree of velocity for a longer period of time and reluctantly curbed her speed. The further the distance she placed between herself and Hogwarts, the lighter her heart became and with it, her hope of a successful escape. A small smile tugged at her lips as she watched the first twinkling star of the night, oblivious to the sparse spattering of trees beneath her.

Until it was too late.

One second she was watching Venus wink from her celestial plane and in the next she felt a vice-like pressure around the expanse of her body, literally plucking her from the onward dashing broom. Alanna watched in horror as a shadow darkened hand of enormous proportion snatched the Firebolt out of the air with two grubby fingers….that were attached to a huge arm….that was attached to a massive body….of a not so harmless looking giant, who was more interested in the 'little stick' than her at the moment.

"Merlin's bloody knickers!" She breathed in a whistling gasp.

The giant grunted loudly. A small gasp of horror parted her lips as she looked up at the six meter giant, grasping her in one hand and regarding the broom in his other with mild interest. His meaty fingers were pressing down on the wood rather harshly in an attempt to break it in two. Thankfully, she recalled this model having an indestructible charm built into the fibre of the wood. Throughout his inattentive musings she dared a glance at her captor from the bottom up; his bare feet were supported huge legs and was clad in roughly sewn animal skins of a non descript brown colour. His neck seemed non existent with a huge and perfectly round head, covered with short bracken hair and fleshy ears. His drooping eye lids covered dimly looking eyes of a yellow-green colour that blinked in slow motion at the Firebolt.

This situation was exceedingly bad for her bladder.

The giant opened his mouth and directed a deafening roar toward the broom-that-would-not-break, showing off a row of huge, perfectly square shaped teeth. Alanna followed the apathetic movement of his hand toward the gaping chasm of his mouth, wrinkling her brow in disgust as he dug the handle of the broom between his teeth. The gurgling grunts of his efforts amplified the further back he burrowed, his molars needing a good cleaning based on the rather fragrant breath that was wafting her way. Her arms were confined tightly against her body all efforts of retrieving her wand stalled by his tightening grip.

A high-pitched grunt of satisfaction followed by a snapping sound alerted her to the successful removal of what must have been stuck between his brick sized yellow teeth. The stench of the rotting flesh was more putrid than she could have ever imagined. Although the light was fading fast she could make out the partially eaten carcass of a unicorn foal, its golden coat barely recognizable by the gangrene flesh and darkly oozing blood. If the stench was not bad enough, his perusal of the 'tasty morsel' was.

'Oh Gods, do not eat it!' she thought, revolted by the sight.

He took a leisurely sniff at the skewered meat and then popped it into his mouth like a cocktail gherkin. Alanna could not believe her eyes as the _broken_ broom emerged from between his lips, the charm obviously not strong enough to withstand 'acts of tooth picking', a gooey string of saliva dripping from the severed wood. She watched her only form of transportation fall to the ground despairingly, not that she would have considered touching it, even after scurgifying the hell out of it.

Now that the first object of interest had been discarded, the giant focused his attention to his other hand. Slowly, Alanna rose, bringing her eye to ruddy eye with her antagonist, who leaned forward and pressed his abnormally large nose against her head, sniffing her rather noisily. She did not dare open her eyes during his scrutiny, in fear that she would come obscenely close to giant-sized bogies.

Let alone nose hair. She shuddered.

"MMMOOHHYAMMM!" He roared quite loudly at her, staring stupidly and proceeded to shake her back and forth in his grip. She would have been less worried if what he said did not sound like an enthusiastic 'yum', as it was, she turned quite nauseous instead. It did not take long for prickling black spots to pepper her vision, her body having had quite enough of the thrashing it has been receiving all day; thankfully, he stopped just in time before she lost consciousness. Alanna's mind registered dizzily that the proximity to that horridly lopsided mouth was getting closer and closer. Once her body began to tilt backward she knew he was trying to eat her head first.

With her last breath Alanna let out an ear-piercing scream, closing her eyes in terror at what would surely be a most gruesome death.

Seconds passed and nothing happened. Alanna opened a weary eye and the world righted itself once more, breathing a sigh of relief while eyeing his closing death trap.

"Hermy."

She stared.

"Hermy!" He said more insistently in a deep, rumbling voice. His dirty finger coming up to her horribly mussed hair, pushing against the side of her head roughly.

"OUCH! Cut that out, will you?" She complained, though if he understood what she was saying would be a far different matter. His grasp on her had loosened only just, allowing the blood to rush back into her tingling limbs. Her trembling fingers quickly made contact with her wand, grasping it firmly and pulling her arms from around his fingers.

"HERMY! HAGGER HERE!"

Darkness had finally fallen and the contours of his body were quickly fading from her sight, his stench, however, remained just as fetid in the cold night air. She hardly wanted to be alone with this huge cretin during the long hours of the night, quickly muttering _'Lumos'_ to illuminate her surroundings. Alanna expertly pointed the wand at the giant's bulbous nose, his droopy eyes crossing whilst looking directly at the glowing tip.

"_Stupefy_!" A bolt of red light emitted from her wand and hurled toward the giants face, walloping his nose head on.

Absolutely nothing happened. The giant continued to stare cross-eyed at her wand.

"_Stupefy_!" She hexed him once more. Nothing. Alanna was becoming quite frantic.

"_Stupefy_, _Stupefy_, _Stupefy_, _STUPEFY_!" The last jet of red light shot from her wand with an enormous backlash of power, hitting him with a sizzling sting.

The waning light forced her to re-cast a panted _Lumos,_ thinking that she had finally cast a successful spell on the bloody oaf. He was so still she thought she had petrified him, until he slowly uncrossed his eyes and looked at her. Alanna held her breath in fright.

Suddenly, his body shuddered with light convulsions while a quaking rumbling noise came from his chest. He took a big breath and the noise continued.

"Merlin's feet! Are you laughing at me!"

The sound grew into something akin to a satanic Father Christmas belly laugh…that morphed into another big breath…and another…

"Oh Gods, no!"

…and into a humongous, sinus clearing, sneeze. A spray of spittle and snot splattered all over the hand that was holding her, drenching her in gelatinous warm goo, that, although she had barely time to shield herself from the worst of it, ran over her face and dripped from her hair.

She spluttered, trying to wipe her face on a clean patch of robe, her stomach about to loose its contents as the cold air caused steamy vapours to rise.

"HERMY TICKLE!" He boomed merrily. Alanna ground her teeth while his laughter lasted for another few minutes, thick tear drops leaking from his eyes.

"I demand you put me down right now!"

The giant looked at her oddly then slowly brought her closer to the ground. The sound of a howling animal stopped him mid motion, his eyes scanning the tree line in the ominous darkness. A chill ran up her spine that had nothing to do with the freezing temperatures or the rapidly cooling snot.

"Forest BAD for Hermy," he grumbled, retracting his hand.

"I realized that over an hour ago," she said more to herself than him, grabbing a sludgy looking bogie from her head and shaking her hand madly.

"Find Hagger," he said firmly.

"Find what? No! Put me down right now!" Alanna smacked her palm on his huge finger to get his attention. "Have you not done enough damage already?"

"Grawp find HAGGER!" He insisted, another not so distant howl piercing the silence of the night. Before she could protest any further, the giant turned and walked in ground shaking stomps toward the trees.

"Wait! You are going the wrong direction!" He was taking her en route to Hogwarts.

"Hagger there!" He pointed his thick finger toward the castle.

"Home THERE!" If she could not make him understand in full sentences, she would try his own broken language and gestures. He looked at her thickly.

"Hagger HOME," he emphasized the last word by pushing his palm against a thick oak tree, bending the massive trunk with hardly any strain, ripping it up at the roots. The crash of the tree was deafening.

"What did you do that for!" She yelled at him, removing her hands from her ears.

"Scare wolf," he grumbled and promptly imitated the screaming howl they had heard earlier.

"Scare ME!" She bellowed angrily her voice cracking from the strain.

"Hermy safe," he cradled her protectively against his bare chest, walking through the forest at a leisurely pace. The body odour was overpowering and, to her horror, her cheek was pressed firmly against a wiry patch of chest hair that surrounded a nipple the size of a tree stump. This day had just hit its all time low; it just could not get any worse than this.

The minutes passed into hours as Grawp walked through the dark forest. Alanna had given up trying to convince the giant to turn around, her voice not capable of screaming at him further. She only hope that 'Hagger' would be an understanding chap and let her leave…after a few hours of needed sleep, of course. She was so exhausted that the steady footfalls of the giant lulled her into a fitful doze; her wand clasped tightly between her numb fingers, the spell continuously illuminating the darkness.

Sometime during the night it began to rain fat, cold drops that even the trees could not shelter them from. Now fully awake and shivering she squinted at her surroundings, the trees less wild and foreboding here. Up ahead a glistening shimmer caught her eye, something was catching the light from her wand and reflecting it in a faceted sparkle.

"_Lumos_ _Maximus,_" she muttered the spell hoarsely, pointing the wand toward the shimmer beyond the falling rain, bright light flooding further into the darkness. Alanna gasped at the colossal spider web situated between two large pine trees, glittering with a million rain drops. Unfortunately, it was positioned in the middle of their path and Grawp had a tendency to walk through every single obstacle, having left more than a dozen felled trees in their wake.

"Spider web," she rasped at him. The giant did not react and kept walking. "Do you not SEE the WEB?" He grunted and gathered her in the palm of his hand, his fingers curling once more around her body. She groaned.

The web was a wet and sticky mess! As predicted, the oaf walked right into the web, tearing at the clinging strands with his bare hands, conveniently forgetting that she was being held in one of them. A few grunts, five meters of webbed forest, and a highly aggravated and even dirtier witch later, they emerged into a dome shaped enclosure covered entirely in spider web.

Alanna searched the area for any eight legged creatures that may be lurking in the shadows, coming up empty handed. The giant continued walking past the mummified trees, not noticing the oppressing silence. She could not shake the uneasy feeling of being watched…

The pressure of something dropping on her crusty hair almost made her drop her wand. Her left hand flew to the top of her hand and touched a rather large spider the size of her palm, extracting it carefully from her matted hair and looking at it with a little smile.

"Hello there, little one."

The spider sat on her grubby palm for a second, lifted its front legs and lodged its glistening pincers into her wrist. Alanna shrieked, involuntarily dropping the arachnid down the height of the giant, who promptly stepped on it without flinching. She did not have time to feel any form of guilt for its demise, as many dull 'plopping' sounds echoed through the dome. She directed her wand above her head for a quick look and came face to face with eight black eyes, their owner recoiling with an anguished wale.

Spiders of all shapes and sizes were falling from the trees and rushing toward their prey, pincers snapping menacingly. Alanna reacted automatically, hexing as many of the arachnids as possible, before they could either attack her or the giant, who continued on his journey as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening; his heavy footfalls crushing as many spiders as she hexed, the squishing noise of their innards echoing her hoarsely muttered spells. There were just too many of them closing in.

"FASTER!"

She shot three spiders off of his thighs with a well placed stinging charm, but the giant was still not moving any faster.

"Hagger FASTER!" She pleaded, her wrist where she had been bitten already going numb as the venom took effect.

"Hagger THERE!" He roared, reaching the far wall of densely woven web, once again using both hands to clear his path. Alanna had to stop her hexing and concentrate on freeing her face from the sticky white strands. When they were liberated from the web, Alanna aimed a sealing charm at the hole returning it to its former structure.

Several spiders had managed to follow them through the opening and she spent the next minutes stunning the black creatures. A very persistent arachnid the size of a large house elf had managed to foil her spells and cleverly climbed the giant's body from behind. Currently, the menacing beast was perched on his shoulder, moving its pincers threateningly.

"Stupefy!" The hex was not as powerful now, her voice having been reduced to a fierce whisper. The spider easily dodged her attack, dashing out of her line of sight and under the giant's arm. Alanna moved her dimming wand erratically, trying to look for dangerous critter, only to be faced with its venomous 'smile' centimetres from her person. The shocking realization that it would bite her flooding her senses, as it reared on hind legs to strike swiftly.

Mid descent the spider emitted an unearthly squealing noise prior to being lifted clear off of the giant's thick wrist by two grubby fingers. It feebly kicked all of its legs, screeching bloody murder, until its head disappeared between the giant's lips. Alanna averted her eyes while he finished his wiggling morsel swallowing hard to keep the taste of bile down.

"HMMM Num Num," he grumbled smacking his lips and belching appreciatively.

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The next few hours passed slowly, the light of the wand having gone out completely, Alanna being too tired to recast the spell. Her arm was becoming quite numb from the bite, angry red lines streaking up her inflamed skin. She did not have the energy to fight off any more attacks and hung limply in the giant's grasp. A few hours before dawn she woke from a semi-conscious state his hand having tightened around her body cutting off most of her air supply.

"Hagger here," he said into the darkness and pointing toward the break in the tree line. Alanna felt like sobbing uncontrollably. There, beyond the dimly lit hut was the massive castle she had been trying to avoid. Grawp slowly, and quite stealthily for a giant, walked up to the hut and extended his free hand toward the merrily smoking chimney, patting it twice with his open palm. A small cloud of smoke rose resembling a signal into the night, resulting in multiple fits of coughing from within the cabin.

The door opened violently, expelling the coughing Headmaster and Professor Hagrid.

"Grawpy…(cough)..dinna not tell yeh…(cough)…not to do tha'?" Professor Hagrid coughed some more.

"Grawp bring Hermy."

The Headmaster was the first to recover, looking sagely at the giant over his half moon glasses. Professor Hagrid wiped his streaming eyes.

"Wha' did yeh say Grawpy?"

Grawp extended his occupied hand toward the two and grunted. "Hermy safe, Hagger." Alanna groaned when she realized who 'Hagger' really was, and that she would not be able to convince him to let her go. Rotten Luck!

"Miss Flint, it seems you have rejoined us," the Headmaster said sternly. "I trust I do not have to tell you how many people have been looking for you since you pushed Mr. Malfoy into the lake."

She looked at him defiantly.

"Now, Grawpy put Hermy down," Professor Hagrid motioned the giant to lower his hand to set her free, but he reluctantly pulled her back against his chest.

"NO! Grawp want meat!"

Either Alanna was becoming delirious, or the stench of his sweat was not as bad anymore. Professor Dumbledore only watched the scene with steely eyes, waiting for Professor Hagrid to ply the big brute with whatever meat it is he wanted.

"You wan' a nice piece 'o dragon meat, Grawpy?" The shaggy professor quickly ambled back into his hut to retrieve the offered fair. He returned shortly after with a huge chunk of green dragon steak, that he dangled toward the giant's face.

"Now you le' Hermy go, yeh hear?"

"Headmaster…"

Alanna closed her eyes at the sound of the Potion Master's voice, shrinking down into the hand that was currently haggling for her over dragon meat. All too soon, the giant seemed satisfied with his barter and set her free with a mighty shove. Her legs were not willing to support her by this time, buckling from under her and sending her face first onto the muddy lawn.

"Gwarpy tha' was no' nice!" The professor bellowed, handing him the meat. "Now off with yeh!"

Alanna could feel the vibrating steps of the giant as he turned and walked back into the forest with his loot. She slowly rose onto her shaking knees trying to stand, but failing miserably. The remaining two professors looked down at the dirty and shivering mess of seventh year kneeling at their feet.

"I believe a visit to the infirmary is in order. I will see you tomorrow in my office, Miss Flint," Professor Dumbledore said curtly, turning to his colleague. "Severus, would you see that she gets there?"

An unmistakable scowl flitted over his features, his jaw set with defiant determination. "As you wish, Headmaster," he replied tersely, dismissing him from his sight and focusing his obsidian eyes on Alanna's upturned face. His nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Get up, Flint!"

Alanna continued to stare at him, his face shifting around prettily in her tunnelled vision.

"If you think I will levitate you all the way to the castle then you are sorely mistaken," he informed her coldly. He waited only seconds for her response, then growled his displeasure, gripping her numb arm and hauling her to her feet. Swaying precariously she took two steps back to distance herself from his penetrating gaze.

Later, Alanna could not be sure if the attack was provoked, the Professor having wordlessly aimed his wand at her. All she remembered were those glowing red eyes coming toward them from the forest with a snarling howl.

One minute Severus Snape was standing, and in the next ….

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**Author's Note**: IF YOU HAVE NOT REVIEWED YET, THEN I AM BEGGING YOU TO DO SO NOW! Ok, was that forward enough? Did the last person in the back row hear me alright? GOOD! waits for the thirty people who have me on alert to review….hears crickets…..OK well while I wait, let me thank my wonderful Beta, who is slightly green at the moment, Mysticsong.

Also, PinkCorsair, my muse, who made the good icky parts into delightfully icky parts! All of my reviewers who have been there from the beginning THANK YOU. This chapter is dedicated to all of you. Odyssia here it is!


	22. Lost and Found

**Potions: What would a Girl do without it?**

By Slave4severus

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of JKR's work….does anyone ever read these disclaimers?

One minute Severus Snape was standing, and in the next ….he found himself sitting in his office, grading another batch of horridly written third year essays. His quill scratched viciously over the parchment in harsh contrast to the deafening silence. During a particular scathing comment a barely audible knock sounded at the door, which he strategically ignored.

'_Venomous snake scales are not comparable to garden snake scales. Rewrite this drivel and resubmit it along with two rolls of parchment on venomous snakes and their properties to potions…'_

The knocking on the door grew more insistent. "Enter," he said tersely and resumed his grading as the interruption moved to stand a few paces away from his desk. He finished the last sentence and looked up through his limp tresses at a second year Slytherin.

"To what do I owe this pleasure, Mr. Smyth?"

"Professor Snape, there has been an incident by the lake…"

Severus stared.

"Well, do not keep me in suspense any longer, Mr. Smyth," his voice tinged with a sarcastic edge.

"It is about Draco Malfoy, sir…" the boy shifted uncomfortably.

Severus' mood was darkening by the second. "Mr. Smyth, if you would care to get to the point within the next five seconds, I am quite busy."

"Sir, he was thrown into the lake."

He glared at the boy. "So Mr. Malfoy has accidentally gotten his robes wet, and all activity has to cease in the castle. I do not see how this is of any importance."

"But, sir, he was pushed in…"

"Mr. Smyth, I do not have the patience for these types of interruptions. You are excused."

The boy looked fearfully at his Head of House; however, having been sent by a seventh year Prefect, he felt the need to press on. "But Professor Snape, he was pushed off of his broom by that new Gryffindor. It took him over an hour to reach the shore."

Severus pierced the boy with an unfathomable black stare. "What?"

Finally having gotten the Potions Master's attention, the boy continued his halting explanation. "We didn't know anything was wrong, sir, until the Gryffindors vacated the Pitch for tryouts. When we couldn't find Draco anywhere, Blaise Zabini went looking for him, sir. He had just gotten out of the lake when I came upon them, and Blaise asked me to fetch you right away," he finished, taking a steadying breath.

Severus rose from his seat stepping from his desk and striding to the door of his office, ushering his pupil out before him. "Where is Miss Flint?" he asked coldly as he swiftly walked down the dungeon corridor. The boy had to speed up considerably to keep up with him.

"She's gone, sir," he panted slightly.

Severus stopped abruptly and turned so fast his neck popped uncomfortably. "Explain yourself," he hissed darkly.

"She pushed him off of his broom over the lake, and then flew off with it. She stole his Firebolt, sir." He emphasized the last part with indignation, the loss of the broom more important than the loss of the girl.

Severus squashed any lingering thoughts he may have had about their 'encounter,' his hard, calculating mind running through various thought processes before coming to a halting conclusion.

She found what she had been looking for, and now the little gutter snipe was returning to her master. The question was, who was it?

"Where is Mr. Malfoy?"

"They were taking him to the infirmary, sir."

"That will be all, Mr. Smyth, you are dismissed," Severus rose from the dungeons, his jaw firmly set. His long strides were devouring the distance to the Hospital wing, which he reached in record time. Upon entering the double doors, he spotted Mr. Zabini standing to the side of an occupied hospital bed.

"Mr. Zabini, I expect you to come by my office in thirty minutes," he looked at him meaningfully, received a curt nod from the Slytherin and moved toward the hospital bed, and a dishevelled Draco Malfoy. Severus tried to hide a smirk. The Malfoy heir had never look this ruffled before, his hair having lost the usual sleek look, curling slightly after a hasty drying spell from the medi-witch, no doubt. His lips had a blue tinge to them, curled in a pain and rage filled snarl while Madam Pomfrey tried to ply him with an angry red Liquid Lava potion.

"What happened, Mr. Malfoy?" he clipped, standing at the foot of the bed.

"What happened!" Draco rasped. "The bloody bitch threw me off my broom, that's what happened!"

"Control yourself, Mr. Malfoy" Severus spat nastily, while Madam Pomfrey huffed indignantly. Draco stared up at his Head of House, snatching the vial from the nurse and downing its contents.

"Mr. Malfoy! You were to sip the potion and not drink it in one go!" Madam Pomfrey admonished, not so gently fluffing his pillow and tightening the blankets around his body. If looks could kill, Draco Malfoy would have committed murder. The tell tale sound of the floo announced the Headmaster's arrival, stopping Madam Pomfrey's pinched expression and harsh bedside manner.

Severus regarded Dumbledore with an unreadable expression as he joined them at Draco's bedside. "Severus, I have just heard the news," he said gravely and turned toward the student. "How are you feeling Draco?"

Before Draco could respond with an acidic remark, he was overwhelmed by a violent coughing spell, his shoulders doubling over as he gasped for breath. Madam Pomfrey stood by, shaking her head, muttering about 'stubborn Malfoys'. Severus smirked as Draco let out an almighty belch chased by a plume of magenta fumes.

"Bloody hell!" he rasped between puffs of smoke that merrily rose in curling tendrils from his mouth and nose.

"That's what you get when you drink the entire bottle in one go," Madam Pomfrey dead panned, focusing her attention on the Headmaster.

"I believe I would like to hear exactly what happened," Dumbledore said, looking pointedly at Draco over his glasses.

"I saved her, for Merlin's sake! She was about to crash that inferior school broom when I pulled her off it," he grumbled, pulling off a few blankets as the potion took affect, his usually pale cheeks tinged with a crimson glow. "She was hanging onto me for dear life and when I finally stopped my Firebolt," he paused meaningfully, scowling at the magenta fumes he emitted, "She just pushed me off!" He shuddered as he thought about the lake.

"Which direction did she fly?" Severus narrowed his eyes in thought.

"I was slightly preoccupied with the Squid, _Professor_," he sneered venomously. Severus crossed the distance to the side of his bed like a graceful bird of prey, clutching the front of his infirmary gown in a claw-like grip, and hauling him close to his face.

"Let us try the question once again. _Which direction did she fly_?"

"Severus!"

He reluctantly let go of Draco, whose anger was only apparent by how quickly the smoke was expelled with each breath.

"She flew into the forest due east," he hissed through clenched teeth. Severus' head whipped around to look at the Headmaster, both in silent agreement about the severity of her escape.

"My father will not be happy about this turn of events, especially when he finds out that my Firebolt…" A deadly look from his Head of House stopped his ranting, forcing him to focus his attention elsewhere. 

"And how bloody long am I going to be…fuming at the mouth!"

Severus followed the departing Dumbledore, while Madam Pomfrey continued to argue with her charge. "Flint Manor lies in the south," Severus stated quietly, then turning to look at the Headmaster. "I do not think she has been trying to return home in the past few days."

"What are you suggesting, Severus?"

"I am _suggesting_ that we have been infiltrated by a spy in such an elaborate manner that even you think it is unfathomable."

"Perhaps you are a bit paranoid."

"If you found a student rummaging through your private study, I believe you would have an elevated sense of 'paranoia' as well, Headmaster."

The headmaster stayed silent.

"It would not be the first time that the Dark Lord used a tool such as this." Severus pressed on. "A girl of her talent could easily manipulate her professors with her advanced techniques, not to mention that rather convenient scar she has on her neck." He paused. "I have seen Potter interact with her, Albus, and it is more than casual." They had stopped in front of the fire place. "I suggest Veritaserum and Legilimency."

The words hung between them, pregnant with meaning.

"I will have to contact Lucius about his son's welfare. I need you to find Alanna and bring her back here, even if you have to look in unconventional places."

Severus nodded grimly and turned on his heel. He was not looking forward to spending the afternoon in the vicinity of the Dark Lord. First, he would make another trip into the dungeons to ready a room to be used as an isolation cell…in case the need should arise. A malicious sneer graced his thin lips as he descended into his dank domain.

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It was past midnight and there was no sign of the girl anywhere. Severus bore down through the driving rain; his last attempt at finding her was the drowning village of Hogsmeade. The weather was ominously mirroring his dangerous thoughts as he strode to the door of the Three Broomsticks. A wave of warmth and smoky candle light greeted him with a hard slap, the establishment brimming with patrons. He muttered a quick drying spell while searching the inn for Madam Rosmerta and finding her in a corner serving a rowdy bunch of goblins their evening ale.

"Watch your step, laddie!" A rather rude goblin pushed at his leg to get to move him by force and before Severus could draw his wand at the misshapen miscreant, Rosmerta appeared with a serene smile and a hospitable greeting. The woman could sense a good hexing a mile away.

"Professor Snape," she greeted him all the while directing his attention from the goblin to a secluded section by the bar. "What can I get for you?"

"I am here on Hogwarts business, Madam." He spoke softly not to be overheard. "A student is missing, presumably on her way home."

"Homesickness can make anyone irrational," she responded sympathetically.

"Has a young woman tried to use your floo connection during the course of the day?"

Rosmerta looked thoughtful for a few seconds. "There have been women, but none that could have passed as a Hogwarts student."

"It is imperative that any floo activity of a student be reported to the Headmaster."

"Of course, Professor, I shall keep my eyes open," Rosmerta watched the Potions Master leave her establishment with a thoughtful expression. She found it odd that a student actually wanted to leave Hogwarts, but the thought was quickly disgarded for the thirsty wizards at the end of the bar.

The darkly clad figure hidden in the shadows by the bar left through the back door without being noticed, having heard enough of the conversation between Professor and proprietor and thus Disapparating with a muffled pop.

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Severus Apparated to the Gates of Hogwarts, slipping through them soundlessly as his thoughts analysed today's findings; which was absolutely nothing. There had not been a Death Eater alert or impromptu summoning, nothing out of the ordinary with Lucius, who had spent a good portion of the afternoon at the Ministry, and finally, nothing in Hogsmeade. Where was she!

Unexpectedly, a pungent odour assaulted his senses, his acute nose burning with the stench of unwashed flesh and rotting breath. He scanned the darkness for the origin of the smell when in the distance the door to Hagrid's hut opened, expelling a coughing pair of professors and a cloud of smoke. By the time he reached the pair it had become obvious where the stench was coming from. Just beyond the Headmaster and Hagrid stood a giant the size of a house, clutching something to his chest and demanding, rather loudly, retribution for his find.

"Headmaster…" he stopped mid sentence and stared at a human form being crushed by the giant's grip. With an almighty shove he released his quarry, letting it tumble through the water logged turf. The intensity of his eyes grew murderous when he finally recognized her. She had been hiding out in the forest for the past twelve hours? It was preposterous!

"Severus, would you see that she gets there?" Albus had been speaking, but he had not been listening. Not that it was hard to deduce where he wanted him to take her. The girl was a shivering, and foremost, smelly mess. He scowled in annoyance, his jaw set defiantly at having to play the girl's nursemaid yet again.

"As you wish, Headmaster," he said curtly, focusing solely on the bane of his existence kneeling at his feet. The small amount of patience he possessed had been used hours ago, turning his request for her compliance into an angry "Get up, Flint!"

He waited.

"If you think I will levitate you all the way to the castle then you are sorely mistaken," he spat icily, waiting only seconds for her to respond to his statement. Without preamble his fingers curled around her upper arm, hauling her to her feet roughly only to have his digits swat at with a grimy hand. He let go of her in seething surprise as she stepped back from him, drunkenly attempting to distance herself.

With a deathly glare he produced his wand and trained it on her. This was absolutely the last time he would help her to the hospital wing.

He could hear the running approach of the creature prior to its wet, snarling growl, stopping his stasis charm mid sentence. He barely had time to brace himself for the inevitable impact of the unidentifiable creature that in the darkness could only be spotted by its glowing red eyes.

One minute he was standing, and in the next his back connected harshly with the ground, his wand arm firmly lodged between the teeth of a nasty looking dog. Although his robes were thickly layered, the beast's teeth penetrated his skin easily. Severus clenched his teeth, a strained groan caught in his throat while he braced himself against the pain, his other hand slung blindly toward the head of the beast. After the third punch his fist finally connected with a more vulnerable spot right above its eye allowing him to breathe through the pain as the animal finally let go with a cowering yelp.

"Peaches!"

He hardly gave any thought to the croaking voice of the girl, lifting his wand with his trembling hand, and supporting it with the other. The dog was shaking its head as if the clear it from the mind numbing blow. Severus cursed at his aim as the stunning spell grazed by the animal's head, hitting a nearby tree in a flurry of red sparks.

"Peaches!" Alanna desperately tried to get her familiar's attention while keeping an eye on the bleeding professor. "Don't you dare harm him!" She tried to scramble to her feet, determined to step into the line of fire.

The dog growled lowly and attacked the Potion Master's pant leg, ripping at the fabric in an attempt to sink its many teeth into the flesh of his leg. He barely managed to back up, dragging it after him as it pulled fiercely, mutilating his trousers. He tried to hex the bloody beast one more time before he would bite something more vital…

The stinging hex hit the dog's rump; Severus' delight, however, was short lived as a flurry of smelly robes and girl furiously attacked his person. The dog cowered in a frightened yelp.

"You hurt him! You bloody hurt him!" Alanna croaked, her throat too raw to hex the Professor silly, following up with the first thing she could think of. She balled her hands into fists and began drumming on the brute's chest with the rest of her strength. "Are you trying to kill a defenseless animal!" The red haze only lifted when her numb hand connected with the Professor's face in an uncoordinated slap, involuntarily raking her fingernails across his cheek.

In his rage he pushed her quite hard onto the muddy lawn, his breathing escalating to a furious pant. "If I were in the habit of killing animals, I would have done away with you a long time ago," he hissed at her, ignoring the stinging sensation her hand had left behind. His eyes warily darted to the growling dog who had taken up a protective stance in front of the fuming girl. He aimed his wand once more at the beast.

"Wha's going on here?" Hagrid bellowed, emerging from the trees. Severus' eyes never left the growling animal, that now had a frightened looking Miss Flint hanging off of its neck.

"Hagrid, if you could be so kind to take care of that animal so I can escort Miss Flint to the hospital wing," he replied coldly.

"I will not let you kill him!" Alanna looked at both professors with wild fear. She was not going to lose her familiar to these people.

"You tried to kill 'em, Professor?" Hagrid stopped ten paces from the dog with an appalled expression.

"You do your job, Hagrid, and I will do mine. Right now, it is to see this _student_ to the castle."

Hagrid mumbled something under his breath that sounded vaguely like 'pushy snarker' while approaching the animal cautiously. He lowered himself onto one knee and spoke softly to it. "There now, no reason ta make such a racket, there is it?" He could barely make out its features in the darkness. "Aren't yeh a beautiful dog, yeh want summat to eat?"

Alanna had begun rocking back and forth, holding onto Peaches for dear life. The animal's attention was riveted onto the Gameskeeper, his growling having lessened to gruff puffs of air. "Tha's a good dog. You need to let 'em go now 'Lanna," he said cajolingly. She did not respond, but continued to rock back and forth, burying her face into his fur.

"I'm no' gonna 'arm 'im."

Alanna looked up at Hagrid's ruddy face, mostly hidden in the shadow of night, reluctantly releasing Peaches from her tight embrace. The dog slowly made its way over to him, sniffing warily then wagging his tail minutely at the half-giant.

"There now, tha's a good boy," Hagrid said gruffly, petting him with a firm hand. "Come now, let's get yeh summat to eat." He motioned for the dog to follow him, but Peaches stopped and looked over his shoulder at his mistress. Alanna swallowed painfully, knowing that she had to leave him with the Professor.

"Go on, Peaches, it is alright…I will be fine," her voice squeaked uncomfortably on the last word. He whined endearingly at her and sent another growling yelp toward the Potions Master before trotting after the lumbering Hagrid.

"Dinna worry yer self. I'll take good care o' him while yer in the castle." He waved at them and disappeared into his hut followed by an all too willing Peaches and a slamming door.

"On your feet, Miss Flint!"

Alanna carefully lifted herself from the mud puddle she had been sitting in, trying to avoid looking up into the Professor's furious face. She should not have hit him, but he had deserved every one of those slaps for what he had done. Menace!

"You are probably thinking that your actions will expel you…"

She perked up at his cold drawl, not even bothering to wipe off the clammy mud from her ruined robes. No, she had not thought about being expelled, her mood lightening considerably at the prospect.

"…however…"

The man really knew how to get under your skin, as if he could sniff out 'hope' and squash it with his index finger. Toxic and lethal in every sense of the word; she shivered appreciatively.

"…that satisfaction will most definitely not be yours tonight."

She wondered if there could have been another satisfaction worth being drenched in Giant bogies and bug guts for. For now she would just let the man talk, that seemed to be his favorite past time anyway. Well, who could blame him with that voice of his?

"Do not worry yourself, there will be punishment for this folly, and if it were me doing the punishing, I would feed you Veritaserum and make you sing like a little nightingale-"  
He emphasized his words with a nod of his head towards the castle. "-and then see if you could fly off of the nearest Astronomy tower."

Alanna's voice was too far gone to respond, not that she did not have a few words to say to the nasty Potions Master, but right now she focused her entire hatred on the looming fortress which once again welcomed her with clutching arms.

Severus' obsidian eyes flashed as she passed him defiantly, not even acknowledging his presence and shakily walking toward the double doors of the castle. Upon taking his first step he swore colorfully under his breath, damning that dog to hell for his wet and foremost cold condition. His wand arm too bloodied to repair the damage to his attire, he followed the girl up to the castle determined not to let the loss of his shoe affect his gate in the slightest.

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By the time they had reached the Hospital Wing, Alanna's shoulder had become so numb from the spider's venom, her legs barely supported the weight of her body. Merlin's socks, she smelled worse now than she did twenty minutes ago, the sweat of the Giant having 'fermented' in the cold night air. Oh Gods, what she would do for a glass of water…

"You are telling me that someone tried to kill my son and you will not tell me his name!"

Alanna's hand stopped on the door handle.

"Lucius, you are misinterpreting the situation. He was accidentally elbowed off of his broom during Quidditch tryouts," the Headmaster replied, his voice muffled through the door.

"He has been plied with potions and is out cold, _Headmaster_, how could you describe this as harmless!"

Alanna's breath hitched. That voice…

'_Shhhhh. Has your father never taught you not to trust strangers?"_

Alanna blinked at the echo in her memory. She had heard this voice before.

"The matter is being dealt with as we speak, Lucius," she heard the Headmaster say with finality.

"Your 'handling' had best include expulsion!" The angry voice continued.

"_Let her go Malfoy, she has nothing to do with this." _

"_Of course, she has nothing to do with this, Flint. Nobody even knew you had a daughter since about two hours ago."_

"Miss Flint, do not develop a conscience now. If you know what is good for you, you had best open that door." The cold voice of the Professor spat impatiently.

Alanna's grip tightened painfully as the distorted images of her memory knit them into a horrid picture.

"I demand his name, Dumbledore!" The angry voice sounded through the door.

"_Your parents are expecting us, my sweet."_

"Miss Flint! Open it!"

The images became clearer, the sound of her mother's screaming echoing inside her head.

"Where was his Head of House in all of this!"

Everything was falling into place at a rapid speed, as if she were going through the whole ordeal once again. The empty house, searching for her parents, strangers trying to kill her, the pain, hexes, curses, flying, trees, coldness, window…

Severus would not wait any longer, shoving the girl out of the way and opening the door to the infirmary with his uninjured hand. He incredulously watched her backing up pale faced and wide eyed, as if she were walking to her death. He did not have the patience for female sensibilities, unceremoniously pulling her into the ward, scowling at its occupants. He really did not want to explain his injuries with Lucius Malfoy to witness his embarrassment.

_He ran the back of his hand over her bruised face, stopping only at her bleeding lip where he gingerly wiped at the sticky substance._

"_Pity. What a waste of pureblood." _

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**Author's Note**: Biggest warmest thank you to all that reviewed! Please, do it again! It is your response that makes me write…faster….yea…faster is good. I am working on that, promise.

Special thanks to my beta Odyssia, who kindly agreed to fill in while my usual beta Mysticsong is taking a break from it all. You are the best girl!

PinkCosair, my little muse! Thanks once again for the late night phone calls.


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